


Iridium

by Zella11



Series: The Lyon Chronicles [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Breastfeeding, Brothers, Castles, Childbirth, Class Differences, Contracts, Dark, Death, English Manors, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Historical, Impregnation, Kidnapping, Love Triangles, Manipulation, Mental Instability, Mind Games, Monarchy, Painful Sex, Politics, Power Imbalance, Pregnant Sex, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Punishment, Rebellion, Resistance, Rivalry, Rough Sex, Royal Blood, Royalty, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Summer, Unplanned Pregnancy, War, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 45
Words: 269,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21912733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zella11/pseuds/Zella11
Summary: The Lyon Regime expands slowly inflicting their tyranny across a country crippled by a totalitarian monarchy. Mollie is a pawn within a fight for power and a fight for freedom. But when she falls into the world of the Lyon family and into the awaiting hands of young prince Micah Lyon, she soon realizes that lions don't hunt in solitude, they hunt as a pride.***Blog: https://thelyonchronicles.tumblr.com/
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: The Lyon Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897141
Comments: 876
Kudos: 465





	1. Hydrogène

There was something off about the weather that Thursday morning.

The usual grey skies carried with it a more foreboding chill and the cobbled sidewalks of quaint and isolated Chartery seemed ever more narrow and ominous, the slick dampened streets twisting and turning like a metastasized tumour at peak angiogenesis. November was fast approaching, and disgruntled misanthropic commuters lined up along the decrepit underground railway, clutching their bags to their chests and keeping their eyes glued to the peeling legend haphazardly strewn across the ceiling of each interior tube. 

To any regular commuter aboard the tube at that hour, nothing would have seemed particularly out of place. 

But if one were to look closer, to glance backwards even for a fraction of a second longer than they usually would, they would have noticed the young lanky brunette at the back of the tube, her thin legs curled up on the peeling leather seat as she stared forebodingly out the dark grimy window.

But one does not indulge in such scrutiny in the midst of early November. After all, there is too much else to re-consider and re-evaluate in one’s own reclusive life.

The tube came to a sharp jolt sending Mollie Mayeson careening into the dusty seats in front of her. The girl lurched forward in surprise clutching the cold rails of the seat handles to keep herself balanced. Thankfully, the compartment had cleared significantly at this point in time and her sole witness stood against the window adjacent to her seat, his face shrouded by the town’s local newspaper, _The Chartery Free Press_. Mollie could see only the top of a thick black bowler hat behind the newspaper along with clean cut pinstriped trousers. He was rather short in stature, then again at five foot ten, most people were short in comparison to her. He didn’t even spare her a glance as she dusted herself off and grabbed her tan brown rucksack before stepping out of the dusty humid compartment. 

The dingy apartment Mollie shared with her mother in the North end of town came into view as the trudged her way up the narrow street towards her apartment. The landing was complete with a rickety staircase and an out of use fire extinguisher, the broken glass pieces dusted to the corner of the yellowing wall of the landing, out of place and out of mind. 

When Mollie entered her small apartment her nose was assaulted with the pungent scent of lit cigarettes and lingering lavender. It had seemed someone had attempted to mask the smell with a cheap scented lavender candle, a poor attempt really. A low sensual moan came from the room across from Mollie’s, followed by a series of gasps and heavy panting. Mollie narrowed her pale brown eyes and loudly placed her bag onto the chipped wooden counter that served dual purposes as a food prep and dining table. 

Mollie couldn’t care if they had heard her or not, she was exhausted and irritable after her commute from the bakery back home. The sounds muted for only a moment before hasty shuffling and the sharp sound of a zipper could be heard. Mollie rolled her eyes. This wasn’t anything new for the girl. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew Mollie’s mother was a whore. Mollie just hoped that tonight would be one of those nights that she wouldn’t have to be witness to another one of her mother’s spectacles. 

As Mollie poured herself a cool glass of water she noticed the television was on and muted as the late news channel droned on. Mollie glanced upward at the television where a big bolded headline read “LYON MONARCHY ACQUIRES OWNERSHIP OVER AUTO INDUSTRY.” 

Mollie couldn’t stand the monarchy. And why shouldn’t she? The monarchy had unprecedented control and influence over not only political affairs across the country but with various governments in neighbouring vicinities. Each with the same intention to maximize their profits at the expense of the working class. Mollie watched the screen in grim silence as Sir Hartley Lyon stood on stage alongside his three sons and the royal palace guard. It was always such an ostentatious display when Hartley held events. The most expensive food, clothes, dining. Money that could be allocated to much more productive avenues in Mollie’s opinion. 

Of course there was the odd protest here and there but nothing much ever came of them or of the participants. Some presumed they were paid off by the Lyons and higher government officials to stay quiet, others suggested that members were locked away in a bunker, and some even suggested they were secretly executed. Nonetheless, protest participation was a dangerous involvement and Mollie had no intention of associating with them. 

She was allowed to internally despise the monarchy with no consequences…as long as she kept her true feelings confidential. 

She watched as the camera panned over Hartley as he stood tall and ever so distinguished on an elaborate platform at the heart of the city’s affluent neighbourhood along the southern border. He wore a crisp slate grey suit tailored to his lean and tall figure. His hair was fawn coloured but peppered with a speckle of grey and neatly styled in a loose side parted wave. Mollie had always thought he seemed very young, almost too young to have 3 adult sons. He couldn’t be over fifty. When questioned about his age at press events, he always laughed off the question and managed to expertly avert giving a definitive answer. That was a skill in of itself.

Mollie watched him now as he stood on the stage and zeroed in on his eyes. They were dark, they seemed almost black on the television and something about them sent a chill down Mollie’s spine. Although he wore an award winning smile, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and seemed plastered and rehearsed, much like this entire ceremony. 

His sons stood parallel to him on the stage in a line, each dressed in dark tailored suits and each slightly taller than their father who stood at a cool 6”2. 

It was hard to avoid hearing about the Lyon sons in the city. They were the talk of the monarchy within the media and their photos, although always reviewed by the monarchy itself prior to public release, were plastered everywhere from large banners downtown, to the walls of young fantasy-indulged girls. It was almost cult-like how people followed them and Mollie couldn’t quite understand the obsession. 

The photos were primarily of Hartley Lyon’s older two sons, James and Rowan. James was 32 and in a fit position to take over the royal duties of his father when he passed. Mollie doubted that would ever happen as Hartley didn’t look much older than his eldest and seemed to thrive in the public eye both as a royal and as an entrepreneur. 

James showed a stark resemblance to his father with thick chestnut locks neatly combed into a side part and angular features reminiscent of Hartley. There was no mistaking him for anyone other than a Lyon. His eyes however were light brown and his nose thinner and more defined. His physique and charming looks made him almost as popular as his father around town. He wore a lazy crooked smile on his face that gave him a slightly cynical appearance. Although his physical features allowed him a certain degree of popularity amongst the general public, he didn’t quite have the same warm reception shown to him at most events like his father did.

The second one was the skinniest and slightly shorter than his two brothers and stood directly between them. His dark hair seemed scruffier and he wore large glasses over his slender nose. He too had physically appealing features like his father and brothers but with a more generic aspect to it. He was an academic and spent most of his time within the palace indulging in research and “novel innovations” as his father put it. He shared the same light brown eyes as his elder brother and stood tall on the stage, his face apprehensive. 

When Mollie turned her eyes to the last brother she felt her insides churn. He certainly had a reputation. 

Micah Lyon stood at the end of the stage his hands stiffly in his blazer pocket and an annoyed expression on his face. He had a more boyish look than his brothers and a deep sun kissed hue that contrasted sharply with his siblings, who all inherited a much paler complexion. To compliment his tanned skin were waves of loose caramel coloured brown hair with streaks of gold that fell across his smooth forehead. His nose was straight and sculpted and complimented by pink bow lips framed by deep dimples and sharp features. If it weren’t for the height and sculpted nose, Mollie would never have assumed he was a Lyon. But the most defining feature of the youngest Lyon were his eyes. He was staring a little past the camera at something in the distance, a frown still etched on his face but his eyes were light, pale, almost translucent in the camera and Mollie couldn’t quite tell if they were icy blue or light green. 

The youngest Lyon was far from active within the media unlike his older two brothers and Mollie wondered whether that was a personal choice or not. He always seemed irritated or unsatisfied at these events, the odd time he did appear, and his father remained tight lipped about him. In fact, Mollie was surprised Micah Lyon was in attendance and figured the event must have been grand to have demanded his presence. 

The camera zoomed back to Hartley where he began speaking into the microphone positioned on the podium. Mollie could practically hear his voice through the muted television as he spoke at the event. In fact she couldn’t forget it. He had one of those deep baritone voices that radiated professionalism and authority. It was an apt trait considering his position of power. 

The door opened with a creak and her mother appeared before her in the dim lighting carefully tying the thin robe she had carelessly thrown over herself only moments before. 

Mollie could practically smell the stench of sex that emanated around them from the kitchen and she glued her eyes to the table unpacking the goods she had brought back from work earlier that day. 

The man behind her mother was shrouded in the darkness of her apartment but from a quick glance out of her peripheral vision Mollie noted that he was tall. Very tall, well over 6 feet and muscular. He was an absolute unit. He swiftly left without a second glance throwing a thick stack of wads onto the same table in front of Mollie, once again washing her in the scent of their love. 

Mollie had also caught the swift scent of something more earthy. _Patchouli_ , Mollie thought bitterly. She had smelled that scent before, by snooty affluent customers at the bakery she owned. 

Being surrounded in a baker’s environment since she was three, Mollie had a heightened and profound sense of smell. As a toddler she would spend a great deal of time opening spices within the kitchens in the back rooms sniffing her way through cinnamons, nutmegs, and cardamom as she waited for her grandparents to finish with their clients. 

Life had seemed so easy back then. 

Her mother stood wordlessly near the door, the thin gown doing little to hide her plump breasts and exposed legs. Her mother was a tiny fragile black woman with thick dark ringlets that framed her diamond shaped face. She was pretty, very pretty, which is part of the reason she was able to continue doing what she did for extra cash now and again despite her age. 

These men preferred the young ones, but her mother had a way with men, she could convince even the most stubborn man that a night spent with her would surpass even their wildest dreams. 

Mollie had left it at that, she didn’t need to know the details. 

After the unknown visitor had left, her mother scuttled to her side in a huff flipping through the cash on the table, swiping the bills one by one in a hurry between her sweaty swarthy fingers.

“This is enough to pay for the lighting and water for the next two months!” her mother said excitedly her dark eyes sparkling with delight. 

Mollie stared back at her mother wordlessly as she scuttled to the back window of their apartment and stuffed the money inside the window seat chaise. 

“We would have had enough regardless,” Mollie said tonelessly her fingers leaving imprints in the fresh bread she had brought back with her for dinner. Mollie heard the sharp exhale from her mother and grimaced internally. She shouldn’t have voiced her thoughts. 

“Don’t be ungrateful Mollie Mayeson.” 

The fluctuation in her mother’s tone always tensed Mollie and she knew she was walking on eggshells when that tone seeped into her mother’s voice.

“I birthed and breastfed you into this world. Don’t you forget that.” Mollie could see her mother shaking near the window. Her mother’s figure trembling as she turned her gaze onto her daughter. 

Fuck. 

“I’m sorry Mum,” Mollie said quietly. 

“I-“

“I appreciate everything you do for me.” 

Her mother suddenly stopped trembling and a familiar look of blankness crossed her face. Her eyes turned glassy and Mollie knew in these moments, that her mother was no longer with her in the present. She was far away in the own recesses of her mind, a lost figure amongst her colourful and chaotic past life. 

Mollie found it best to let her be in these moments as she finished plating their modest dinner. 

“You look like him you know,” her mother said quietly prompting a sharp glance from the girl at the table. 

This was new. 

Her mother never mentioned her father. _Ever_. And god forbid Mollie ever ask her mother to talk about him. Mollie had done that only once before as a child and the events that followed prevented her from ever repeating that mistake.

All Mollie had to go off on, was that he was white, and this too Mollie deduced by herself. Mollie had a deeply bronzed complexion, a caramel tone with a light spray of freckles across her round face. Her eyes were a pale brown and her lashes and eyebrows naturally thick in nature. Her hair was a deep chestnut brown and wavy, a stark contrast to her mother’s tight black ringlets but with the same thickness and texture. 

Mollie knew her mother was ill, mentally and physically, but not only were the treatment fees too expensive, her mother was a stubborn woman. She refused to address any one of her myriad of problems. Mollie could only do so much for her. 

Mollie remained quiet, letting her mother drown in her troubled and turbulent thoughts. 

“He was tall like you,” she mused. Her knees knocking against one another slightly. 

If the situation hadn’t been so grim Mollie may have found her mother’s stance highly comical. But the look in her mother’s eyes and the desperation in her tone made her stomach flop and her skin grow cold.

“And with those same eyes. Those pale brown orbs.” 

Her mother lurched forward suddenly grabbing the ashtray full of used cigarettes and flinging it to the ground in one rapid movement. 

Mollie flinched at the sound of the crystal shattering but released a silent sigh of relief when she saw the light return to her mother’s eyes. Almost instantaneously, her mother slid gracefully into the stool across from her daughter in one fluid motion and proceeded to pull the ragged tattered sleeves of her gown up towards her elbows .

Her mother picked up some bread and a butter knife in her slender fingers and gave Mollie a tender smile. 

“How was your day at work sweetheart?”


	2. Hélium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie's life of solitude may be coming to an end but will it be for the worse or for the better?

It was unusually busy at the bakery that day. 

Mollie had been given double orders on almost everything and she was struggling with the orders. She had barely slept that night after her mother had relapsed into a particularly bad episode. As usual, Mollie was left to deal with her issues. 

Mollie wiped her brow as she continued icing the hundredth cupcake of that morning. 

“Those are the vanilla bottoms Mollie,” a sharp voice echoed as Mollie jumped in surprise. She looked up into the bright blue eyes of her co-worker and grimaced. Phoebe was nice…nosey, but nice. She was good at what she did and that was more than enough for Mollie. As long as this bakery kept running efficiently and earning money, Mollie could deal with the external uncontrolled variables. 

“Rough night?” 

Mollie rolled her eyes. “Something like that.”

Mollie applied more pressure to her icing packet and carefully outlined the edges of the vanilla bean cupcakes. The clients had initially asked for 200 and just this morning decided to change their demands to 400. It had caught Mollie and the rest of her staff completely by surprise but she couldn’t lose these clients. Not only did they pre-pay, but they requested her bakery especially. 

“Who are these clients anyway?” Mollie muttered. She hadn’t had a chance to review the names on the order. Her stray curls had fallen out of her messy sock bun to trail around her chin and she was constantly flicking her hair back to keep them at bay. 

Phoebe stared at her incredulously as more customers filed into the bakery. Phoebe giggled as she packed up banana bread for the clients at the counter. 

“Oh Mollie you can be so clueless sometimes.” 

Mollie finished the last cupcake and placed it on the ornate dessert tray on the counter. She had been icing since 4 that morning and her knuckles were exhausted and her knees weak. 

“If you’re not going to tell me Phoebe, then drop the subject.” 

She flicked her stray hair back one last time with her forearm and with a huff realized she had scraped her cheek with powdered sugar.

Mollie heard Phoebe snort as she took the rest of the cupcakes to the back for packaging. Mollie shook her head as she turned her attention to the next customer. 

Mollie glanced up to the till and with a jolt, realized the bakery was completely was empty except for one lone figure staring at the picture on the adjacent wall. It was a picture of her grandparents the day the bakery opened 32 years ago. The figure had its back to her but upon closer inspection she realized it was a man in a long tan trenchcoat. He was tall and bulky and his hands were casually in his pockets as he regarded the photo closely. 

Mollie felt deeply uneasy at his presence especially since he was the only one standing in the bakery at this moment. It was just her and Phoebe till noon until they were relieved by their evening staff later that day. 

“Can I help you?” Mollie asked loudly enough to catch his attention but with enough courtesy to remain colloquial. 

He turned around slowly and when Mollie realized who he was she felt her stomach drop to the floor. 

He wore navy and silver, the official colours of the royal guard and he stood straight and alert before her. He didn’t look much older than she but the stern expression on his face exuded maturity. 

He kept a stern frown on his face and didn’t smile when Mollie’s eyes met his. Not that she expected him to. She averted her gaze quickly.

“May I speak to the owner?” 

His voice was rough and hoarse and Mollie was wary of him instantly. 

“I am the owner.”

Mollie had said that with more force than she intended and she noticed his jaw flex and his eyes narrow ever so slightly. She cringed. She could get herself publicly punished if she wasn’t complicit.

“Good.” His eyes flickered to the wall behind her briefly before he continued.

“Take a look at these closely. And pay heed to the due date.”

Mollie opened her mouth to reply but in seconds he had dropped a thick file onto the counter and sauntered out of the bakery, his coat billowing behind him. 

Mollie froze when she saw the intricate seal engraved in the middle of the package. Could it be?

“Who was that?” 

Mollie glanced behind her to see Phoebe poking her nose from the back room. 

Before the girl could respond Phoebe had already pushed her way to the front and gasped when she saw the file. 

“Mollie! That’s a royal invitation!” 

Mollie took a deep breath and stared at the fancy file. The outline of a silver lion on the seal of the scroll gleamed sharply in the setting sunlight and Mollie hated how ridiculously intricate and conceited it was. Phoebe had begun to chatter excitedly about what this could mean for the future of the bakery but Mollie was hesitant. 

“What’s up with you?” Phoebe had interjected suddenly pulling Mollie from her thoughts. “Are you not going to open it?” 

Mollie rolled her eyes at her colleague for the second time. “Mind your business Phoebe.” 

Phoebe put her hands on her hips and faced Mollie head on. The girl had no filter. 

“This is my business. I’m your primary baker which pretty much makes me your second in command.” 

Mollie laughed at that. “Self-appointed second in command.” 

Phoebe shrugged and picked up the file again in awe. 

“Why would they send this to us though?” Phoebe thought out loud to herself. “I mean there’s like a dozen other bakeries across the city.” 

Mollie felt goose bumps prickle against her skin as the stared at the engraving on the file. Even if she didn’t want any association with the royals, it wasn’t up for negotiation. An engraved seal by the Lyon’s was not an invitation. It was conscription and Mollie didn’t like it one bit.

***

Mollie had done a good job of hiding the invitation from her mother as she continued her routine of commuting to the bakery and commuting home after a long day spent in the kitchen. If there was anyone who despised the monarchy more than her it was her mother. 

Mollie found it was best to keep her mother at home due to her mother’s highly erratic nature. Anything could come out of her mouth and Mollie couldn’t risk losing her mother to the authorities or witness her mother go through another public punishment. Mollie was tired of nursing her wounds, both her physical and emotional ones. 

These days, even the smallest grievance was enough to trigger her mother and Mollie simply didn’t have the time to console her and manage her work. 

To make matters worse, she couldn’t let anyone know about the profound mental deterioration her mother was suffering. They would send her straight to the looney bin and Mollie would most likely never see her again. In fact...Mollie _would_ never see her again. At the back of her mind, Mollie would often think _that wouldn’t be such a bad idea_. But she quickly let those thoughts evaporate from her mind and shuddered at the prospect of considering such a thing.

The file had requested her baked goods at the Lyon’s Questershire Cabin which was a good few days commute from Chartery. Mollie didn’t generally cater for big events, but had to figure something out and soon. She would be gone for 2 weeks and paid a handsome sum of money with lodgings and basic expenses covered. It was a tempting offer but Mollie knew nothing good ever came from close associations with the monarchy. Every other local company that had worked for them or even associated with them in some way shape or form either suffered a hostile takeover, a white knight, or were monopolized by the Lyon family. 

She had to keep her safe distance, get this stint over with and return home as soon as possible.

She had a due date to abide by and as the date loomed closer Mollie began to panic. She had no idea how she was going to hide this from her mother and Mollie feared her mother’s reaction immensely. Her panic had even seeped into her work and she was forced to stay extra time to redo a dozen macarons after leaving them in the oven for too long. 

Mollie had grudgingly agreed to take Phoebe with her after Phoebe’s persistent questions and requests and her colleague was elated. Although the invitation had requested for Mollie alone, she figured bringing her primary baker wouldn’t be too much of a problem, especially if they expected her to bake for hundreds of guests.

The night before the trip Mollie was at the bakery instructing her other colleagues on their schedules while her and Phoebe were away. 

As the day came to a close Mollie hung up her apron and let her curls loose from the sock bun she usually sported during the day. She had let her grow long mainly due to lack of maintenance but she didn’t care. 

Phoebe came around the corner after hanging her own apron up and tied back her strawberry blond hair in one fluid motion. Mollie used to tease her that she looked like a dessert when they first started out and that she was meant to work at a bakery. Her intuition was certainly right, Phoebe was an expert at her job and without her bubbly coworker, their customers wouldn't be flowing in like they do. 

“So have you thought about what you’re going to tell your Mum?” 

Mollie grimaced and Phoebe started at her in shock. “You still haven’t told her?” 

Mollie sighed in exasperation swiping a hand through her dark curls. Phoebe knew her mother was….difficult, but not the true extent of her madness. She didn’t like people knowing her business. It was bad enough that her mother had a reputation of sleeping around. She didn’t need to add mentally unstable to the mix. 

“I’ll tell her tonight.” Mollie said wanly eliciting a sharp exhale from Phoebe.

“That woman is something else.” Phoebe muttered picking up her bag prompting a warning glare from Mollie. Phoebe knew when to not overstep her boundaries with Mollie, but she was also the only one who could get away with pushing her to her limits without any consequences. 

“Last sleep before our adventure,” Phoebe said with a wink before pushing open the door of the bakery and sauntering into the night. Mollie stared after her in silence, a dark foreboding feeling coming over her.


	3. Lithium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie's dreadful day finally arrives and things naturally take a turn for the worst.

Mollie had managed to convince her mother that she was taking a 2 week break to help Phoebe nurse her sick father in Aldurough a good 16 hours from Chartery. This was plenty of distance to placate her mother and liberate her corrupt mind from any suspicion, although her mother seemed strangely paranoid these past few days but Mollie had done her best to keep her subdued.

Mollie had hoped to travel to Aldurough one day with her mother and escape through one of the fjords into the mountains, away from the Lyon regime, away from society, and most importantly away from the constant threat of punishment and retribution. She was close, she was almost there. A year or two more of keeping her head down and running her bakery and she'd have enough to leave and sustain the two of them on their road to freedom. Mollie was _so_ close.

Like all days filled with dreadful anticipation (which were most for Mollie), this one had finally arrived and her day had begun miserably. The royals were all about fickle personas which included high fashion and a face full of makeup for the women. 

Mollie had nothing that was currently in fashion and the few cosmetic products she owned (and were permitted to buy) were dusty and crumbling. To top things off, her hair was uncooperative and frizzing in the humid moist air so Mollie had resorted to a classic high bun and a slick of peach gloss for her lips. She opted for a pale pink chunky sweater that resembled a kind of dress and tied a neat belted bow to her front the way the fashionable women did. It was a feeble attempt, but it was better than nothing.

Her mother had destroyed all the mirrors in the house in a previous fit of rage and Mollie hadn’t had the chance to replace them. She hoped for the best and with a small travel bag, she left her dingy apartment and her mother behind her. Mollie fished in her pocket for her status card and her bakery license and made sure she had easy access to both. Her status card was like all the others in her area albeit a few minor differences. 

Status: Primary

Surname: Mayeson 

Birth: Riverton 

Race: - 

Well, her status card was _almost_ the same as everyone else's. Her race was ambiguous and, thankfully, that was about the only thing the authorities questioned her about. Apart from that she was just like all the other primary ascribed citizens: commoners born into poverty attempting to work their way up the status ladder. Like an mRNA strand transitioning to a tRNA, statuses were based off a similar mentality with quaternary status the highest one could achieve, and primary the most primitive. It was foolish to think one could work their up to quaternary status, especially when they were born into primary status, no matter what Hartley Lyon exhorted and falsely envisaged about economic and social mobility at his many elaborate events. Mollie stuffed her card back into her pocket and made the arduous journey to the station. 

When Mollie finally arrived she nearly walked right past her friend and would not have recognized her had it not been for her fierce bright hair. 

Phoebe had done herself up elaborately and could certainly pass for a women within the elite circle of individuals that paraded with the Lyons. Phoebe had insisted Mollie looked great but she doubted it. 

They caught many nervous stares as they were paraded through the crowds of downtown Chartery mainly due to their overt entourage navigating them through the throngs of people, as well as the fact that this was a largely Primary status area. The only time royal guards made a spectacle here was for a public punishment. Mollie had never been outside Chartery let alone on a train and she couldn’t quite discern whether her nervousness or excitement would predominate as they neared their transportation. Phoebe kept shooting her nervous smiles as they boarded the long and luxurious vehicle complete with a first class, middle class, and back room cabin. Mollie made an immediate beeline for the low class cabin before Phoebe pulled her arm sharply. 

“Mollie,” she whispered sharply shooting her a stern look. “We’re in the company of a Royal guard.”

Mollie stared at her. “So?”

Phoebe seemed awfully put out and turned her gaze toward the strict formal royal guard who had a similar expression on his face. 

“It means we’re not sitting with the commoners.” Phoebe smiled politely at the guard who shook his head in annoyance and led the girls down the narrow hallway towards the front of the vehicle.

Mollie felt deeply uncomfortable as she noticed the changing landscape before her the farther along the hallway they continued. 

The chipped tile flooring slowly became a soft velvet carpet and the crew in this part of the train wore neatly pressed uniforms with sharp collars atop blood red vests and pants with a sharp gold trim. The crew nodded once to their temporary guide before leading them to a private compartment equipped with deep mahogany tables, a crisp white tablecloth and delicate china. 

Mollie noticed the spark in Phoebe’s eyes as she took in the luxury that surrounded them. Phoebe was absolutely enraptured by the opulent setting and the five star treatment they were subjected to. Mollie remained apprehensive as they were tended to by the crew and tried to catch her friend’s eye to no avail.

“Shall I show the girls to their private compartments?” a sharply dressed crew member asked from the entrance to their carriage. Their guide nodded and Mollie hesitantly turned to her friend. 

“Maybe we should stay together,” she whispered as Phoebe brushed past her. Phoebe rolled her eyes at her. 

“Relax Mollie.”

She flicked her strawberry blond hair over her shoulder and blew her friend a kiss.

“Enjoy this moment. This may be the only time in our lives where we get to experience life like the elite!”

Mollie frowned as her friend sauntered off with a member of the crew, her blonde hair vanishing from sight. She couldn’t care less if she sat in a first class cabin decorated with gold trimmings or a rickety low class wood cabin without a roof, they’d both reach the same destination regardless.

More importantly, Mollie didn’t like the prospect of being separated from Phoebe, even if it only was for one night, but the free spirited girl gave her no choice. She was off before Mollie could even warn her of any potential dangers. 

“Mollie Mayeson?”

Mollie turned her gaze to their guide who slowly closed the door to the carriage sealing himself and Mollie in the quaint ornately decorated compartment. He kept his shoulders stiff and his uniform straight and crisp as he moved brusquely to close the heavy door. Mollie surveyed him quietly, following his movements as he crossed the room. 

“Tea?” 

He had taken his cloak off and placed it neatly on the chair next to him and Mollie finally had the chance to look at him clearly. He was an older man, in his late fifties or early sixties, with curly black hair transitioning to grey and deep ebony skin that glowed in the dimly lit room. A thick black moustache covered his wide features and extended upwards to meet his thick sideburns. Beads of sweat lined his brow and Mollie was immediately on edge. It was a little too cold outside to attribute his perspiration to the weather. His eyes were dark and hooded as he scrutinized the young girl closely. 

Mollie kept her head down as she had been taught when addressing a member of the royal guard. Her hate for the monarchy welled inside her, bubbling up till it simmered on the surface, but she kept her self in check. The punishment for not adhering to the rules was costly and Mollie was only 19 with the whole rest of her life to live. She couldn’t afford to jeopardize her future on the mere basis of poor impulse control. 

“You’re a smart girl you know?” he said quietly after a long pregnant silence ensued. Mollie stared at her tea, mistrustful, as the guard took a long drag from the delicate china. She didn’t trust anything anyone offered her. She didn't even trust the gifts her best customers dropped off at the bakery during public holidays. She had her mother to thank for that. The women at the best of times had even accused Mollie of trying to poison her. 

“You follow the rules, keep your head down, keep a low profile,” he mused swirling the remains of his tea in his cup. 

“And you are young.”

Mollie met his eyes when he said this, her uneasiness spiking as the guard held a strange expression on his face. 

“I want to see your credentials,” Mollie said suddenly her voice turning icy. Mollie had her doubts about this whole situation from the start, and could curse herself for not asking about the legitimacy of this man sooner. 

He laughed then, his voice reverberating around the room. 

“It’s a little late for formalities isn’t it Ms. Mayeson?” 

Mollie’s insides turned to ice and her hands began to sweat as the weight of the situation rained down upon her. In an instant, Mollie lurched to her feet and lunged for the door knocking the table and delicate china to the ground. The china shattered with an ear splitting crack sending delicate splinters of glass everywhere. Mollie panted as she fruitlessly attempted to open the door. With a growl the guard lunged for her knocking her to the ground and sending her pummelling to the hard carpeted floor. 

He chuckled close to Mollie’s ear as he held her in a tight grip on the ground his fists clenched around her torso as she coughed into the rough carpeted fibres that brushed her cheek. 

“This is good, I like a little spunkiness,” he panted his fists clenching around her tighter as Mollie thrashed in discomfort. “But if you want to keep your friend alive you better acquiesce to all of my demands.” 

Mollie went limp when she heard this and her blood turned cold. She stiffened as the guard slowly rolled her over and released her, her cheek pressing into the rough fuzzy carpet. In any other circumstance she would have taken her chances, but the threat directed at Phoebe prompted her to submit.

Mollie picked herself up off the ground and shot the man a hateful glare. 

“What do you want from me?” 

She was absolutely fuming, but her voice was muffled by the thick dusty carpet. _How could she have let her guard down?_ Mollie prided herself on her ability to sense danger and tense situations from miles away. Sure, she hadn’t been expecting this turn of events, but she should have _known_ better, she should have foreseen that something wasn’t quite right…

The man had risen and stood behind the fallen table a cigar in his hand as he fished in his pocked for a lighter. 

Mollie looked up at him from the ground and noticed it was an expensive cigar, the contraband kind that could get you publicly punished. If Mollie remembered correctly, it was 12 public whips for contraband. 

He blew the smoke casually out of his mouth as he observed her from above, his expression unreadable and his stance completely at ease. 

“My demands are reasonable,” he started, “and the reward is… liberating.” 

Mollie pushed herself to her feet, the hate inside her welling dangerously close to combustion. 

“I don’t think I follow.” 

He smiled when she said this, taking another long drag from his cigar and gazing out of the train window. Mollie hadn’t even realized they had already started moving and were well on their way out of Chartery and into the green landscapes toward the Southern Border. 

His skin glowed in the candlelight near the window, the wrinkles pronounced on his forehead, his uniform silver and navy, and the badge of the royal guard glinting in the darkness. Mollie’s eyes were drawn to it as he turned to look at her. 

“Blood before others granted others will fall, but blood after throne and the throne before all.”

Mollie instinctively touched her hand to her heart. It was an involuntary response, and she listened in silence to the man recite the oath of the monarchy. These words had been ingrained in Mollie’s mind since she was a young girl and God forbid she ever forget it. The Lyon regime predicated upon these words since the early centuries and every member of society was entrusted with branding it in their minds. 

Mollie narrowed her eyes as the man continued puffing on his cigar and the girl couldn’t help but glance around her in fear. The monarchy were always watching, their eyes the sky and their ears the walls. They learned this from a young age. It was verboten to access certain luxuries if you were below a certain class standing, and yet this guard was so brazenly breaking code. In fact, his actions were so audacious, so inexplicably intrepid, that Mollie had an inkling that he wasn’t at all who he claimed to be. 

Mollie stood up taller and faced the man standing across from her in the palatial room. 

“Who do you work for?” 

He didn’t break eye contact with her as he took the cigar from his mouth and placed it on an ashtray on the small marble countertop near the compartment window. 

“I think you already know the answer to that Ms. Mayeson.”

Mollie glanced around the room again, waiting in fear for some form of government authority to burst into their compartment and put an end to all of them. However, the compartment door remained closed, the train continued to charge through the flowing expanding greenery and the tea continued to boil. 

She knew exactly who this man was, she could kick herself for not seeing through him before. He was part of the Insurgency. Mollie had known they existed, deep underground for centuries since the royals embarked on their first quest thousands of years ago to establish sovereignty over foreign lands and create the foundation for their eventual empire. 

The Insurgency would meet in secret, in underground railroads, isolated islands, and most infamously within clock towers to discuss their plans to dismember the growing monarchy. They had been largely dormant ever since Hartley Lyon had risen to power. Hartley had been the youngest Lyon to ever inherit complete power of the monarchy at only sixteen years of age. Mollie had truly believed Hartley had achieved what his ancestors couldn’t; to permanently eliminate the Insurgency. It had seemed she was mistaken…

“I sought you out for a very particular reason my dear,” the man said quietly making his way across the room to pour himself a fresh glass of brandy from the wine fridge. 

Mollie swallowed uneasily as he paced back and forth across from her, carefully stepping over the overturned table as he observed her. 

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Mollie said assertively. “I’ve kept to myself, I follow the rules, and I live my life in peace.” She paused as she took in his reaction.

“And I plan to continue to do so.”

She had no idea where Phoebe could be at this point and could only pray the girl was okay. She had to play it safe, her friends life could depend on it. 

The dark haired man laughed to himself when she finished and this only further infuriated her. 

“You are good, for the most part” he chuckled. “But we’ll have to work on that sharp tongue of yours.”

The man took a deep breath and a long sip of his drink before he launched himself into his proposition. 

“For all of the reasons you have just listed my dear Mollie. For that is exactly why I have brought you here.” 

Mollie stared at him as he continued.

“You are the key, the missing loop we will use to transform this parasitic regime into something more…” he paused as he thought about his next words carefully. “Mutualistic.”

He began to pace again and the young girl followed his every move closely.

“You do follow the rules, impeccably so might I add,” he continued raising his glass towards her in a gesture reminiscent of a congratulations. 

He breathed deeply through his nose and swirled his glass around, his dark eyes liquifying as he carried on. 

“You make a modest but adequate living running a bakery, you don’t have many friends but you prefer it that way. Your mother is a common street whore and you keep to yourself out of embarrassment or shame…”

Mollie grit her teeth when she heard what he had called her mother but she didn’t interrupt.

“Perhaps both?” He added with a questioning stare. 

“So you’ve been following me, watching me?” Mollie snapped. Her face flushed and her hands curled to fists.

This wasn’t new to Mollie. The authorities were always watching. But for a member of the Insurgency to admit to doing so in such a casual manner pushed her over the edge. Now that she thought about it, 12 whips for contraband seemed mild compared to the ignominy of life imprisonment or execution. 

“Someone is always watching you,” he answered darkly his badge sparkling in the moonlight. The train hit a bout of brief turbulence sending Mollie lurching forward and instinctively the man went out to help her. 

“Get away from me!” she screeched.

Her voice broke through the room in a high pitched squeal and the man doubled back in surprise. 

“I’m not trying to hurt you.” He said sternly keeping his stance formal and straight as Mollie balanced herself on the unsteady surface.

He sighed as he downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp and for the third time that night looked her straight in the eyes with his dark enigmatic gaze. 

“I’m going to bring down this monarchy Mollie. And you’re going to help me do it.”


	4. Bérylium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More truths are unfolded but can Mollie keep track of all of them when she harbours so many lies of her own?

“Let’s go over this again shall we?”

Mollie sat still in a soft plush velvet chair, the same colour as the crimson carpet that covered the room. Her hands were tied behind her with one of those sharp metallic handcuffs that only the royal guards had access to. It was for “safety precautions,” as the men had put it. Mollie discounted that claim immediately. She was convinced it was just another reason for these men to exert their dominance over her, they seemed to get a kick out of it. 

Mollie had been listening to the dark haired man all night and she was absolutely exhausted. He had told her his name was Caleb, one of the many leaders of the Insurgency. Another member had joined him not long after and Mollie had recognized him as the very man who had come to her bakery only weeks ago to drop off the invitation.

The more Mollie thought about it the more it made sense. It was unlikely the Lyons themselves would invite a low income bakery to cater at one of their events. They kept Primary status civilians in their own isolated area of the country, away from their world. 

The other man stepped forward and introduced himself as Isaac. 

He too sported a royal uniform and Mollie would never have assumed he was a rebel against the monarchy. Unlike Caleb, Isaac was younger, maybe a couple years older than Mollie, and playing his role well. Similarly to Mollie, he had been sought out and hand picked to join the underground association. Mollie wondered if he, like her, was actually given a choice or not. 

“I think we should go over this again,” Caleb said pacing for the hundredth time that day. 

“I know it already,” Mollie snapped jerking her wrists forward and proceeding to chafe them with the sharp edges of the cuffs. She was sick of hearing about this plan. Her stomach hurt from a prolonged lack of food and her leg had a bruise from when she hit the floor early last night. 

They both looked at her sharply and Mollie swore internally. 

She had fucking done it again. 

“Mollie.” Caleb said sternly running an arm across his perspiring forehead. “You cannot. Absolutely _cannot_ address a royal in that manner. You will be killed and your body thrown into…” he trailed off after that shaking his head in disappointment. 

Mollie sighed. She knew. There were a couple things that could happen to her. She could get burned alive, stoned to death, or buried alive. If she was lucky they would shoot her then throw her body in the ocean. 

“Caleb she understands.”

Isaac had stood up and straightened his uniform and Mollie had turned her head towards the window and watched as the train began to slow down. 

“We’re here anyways. If she doesn’t get it now then that’s that.” 

Caleb swore and placed his hands on the small mini bar beneath the window. Isaac frowned at him and Mollie examined their interaction closely. There was a certain layer of trust between them and Mollie speculated that they had been working together for some time now. There was a degree of friendliness yet deep respect between the two of them, reflective of the kind of relationship between a boss and employee at a firm. 

“So that’s it then?”

They both turned to look at her as she glanced at both men coolly. 

“I do what you ask, get the information you need, and you ensure that when the time comes I and my mother get our free passes through to Aldurough unharmed and undetected.”

“Those are some steep requests Mollie,” Caleb said flatly his dark eyes narrowing. “You must uphold your end of the bargain as well as succeed if you want all your requests completed.” 

Mollie rolled her eyes. 

“There’s not even a guarantee I’ll make it out of there alive!”

Isaac interjected at this point when he noticed Caleb was on the verge of losing his patience again. 

“We’ll have your back Mollie,” Isaac said with a hand on his heart. “I swear on my grandmother’s grave.” 

Mollie stared at him as the train slowly came to a stop and the whistle sounded through the air signalling that their destination had been reached. 

“We look after each other Mollie,” Caleb said quietly exchanging glances with his colleague. “And after this mission, you will be one of us.” 

“Lucky me,” she said bitterly.

The two men exchanged glances for the second time before Isaac ventured forward and freed her wrists. 

“I do apologize for this,” he said quietly as Mollie rubbed her chafed wrists. “It was just insurance to make sure you didn’t harm us or yourself.” 

Mollie didn’t answer as the men quickly straightened their shirts and centred their badges in preparation for sporting their false personas. 

She noticed how Isaac eyed her curiously as she straightened her sweater dress and belt and fixed her messy hair. 

“Is that the best thing she has to wear?” Isaac asked Caleb as his eyes travelled from her chest to her feet, his brow furrowed with concern. 

Mollie was itching to reply with a sarcastic comment but she had to show them that she had at least some kind of impulse control. Plus, she had survived this long without any sort of punishment as Caleb had noted earlier, she knew how to carry herself out in the company of higher status citizens and more importantly in front of the authorities. She was a survivor, she could do this. 

“The less attention she gets the better,” Caleb said gruffly stepping closer to place his hands on Mollie’s thin shoulders. 

Mollie stood tall despite the heavy weight from the man in front of her.

“I want that contract Mollie.” 

Caleb’s tone was flat and bleak and he was staring hard into her eyes. The grip he had on her shoulders was becoming uncomfortable. If Mollie didn’t know any better she would assume this man had gone through this before, multiple times. His eyes didn’t scream determination, they expressed a deep desperation. 

“You get your hands on that contract and bring it to us, we can expose Hartley Lyon and his disgusting family and show the citizens what kind of man he really is.”

Caleb was visibly shaking and Mollie was struggling under his heavy weight. 

“I know you can do it. I know we have a chance this time. I can feel it.”

“Caleb.” Isaac said in a warning tone, his hand on the door and his expression one of concern. 

“You’re hurting her.”

A flicker of surprised flitted across the older man’s face and he quickly recoiled. 

“He wasn’t actually but I appreciate the concern,” Mollie said stiffly fixing her dress. 

Isaac smiled genuinely when she said this and suddenly he looked youthful and innocent and completely at ease. It was the first genuine emotion she had seen from him and she found herself shooting a small smile back. 

“Mollie,” Caleb said again breaking the moment and forcing Mollie’s eyes back to his. 

“There will be someone on the inside who you can trust. We won’t send you in there alone.”

Mollie nodded as he fished in his pocket for his pocketwatch. He glanced at it briefly before snapping it closed with a sharp flex of his hand. 

“You said the contract would be in Hartley’s quarters,” she started as Caleb looked at her.

“How will I even be able to gain access to that part of the mansion? I don’t think the Lyons are stupid enough to let anyone… let alone servants into their private quarters.” 

Isaac’s face paled when she asked this and she saw the men exchange another glance at each other, this one looked extremely uncomfortable. 

“Not servants…,” Caleb trailed off with a dark look and Mollie felt her stomach drop to the floor when she heard this. 

“No,” she said suddenly her previously calm demeanour evaporating like water on a stovetop. 

“No!” she said again more forcefully slamming her hands on the now upright table between them.

Caleb rolled his eyes and Isaac looked perplexed. 

“What do you mean _No?_ ” Caleb said with a huff, perspiration building on his brow again. “I’m assuming your mother taught you well?” 

He had taken out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his forehead and all Mollie wanted to do was take that damn cloth and wrap it around his neck.

“Why else do you think we chose _you?_ ” he said with a humourless laugh. 

Mollie felt numb and humiliated and drew her gaze to her hands instead. 

She didn’t have the heart to tell them that she was nothing like her mother, not in personality and definitely not in recreational pursuits. In fact, Mollie had never been with a man in her life. She had no reason to be and living with her mother why _would_ she?

Mollie was beginning to feel that dread pool in her gut again. She wasn’t ready for this mission at all. They were throwing her into a pool of ravenous sharks without even teaching her how to swim. 

Caleb had turned towards Isaac and began giving him instructions in a low muted tone. Isaac kept his eyes trained on Mollie and he had an odd expression on his face. She wondered if he had observed her reaction and deduced what she simply couldn’t hide.

They nodded to each other and Isaac left the compartment abruptly leaving Caleb and Mollie once again alone in the room. 

“Focus on the reward Mollie,” he said taking his handkerchief out one last time to blot at his forehead. 

“It’ll be worthwhile to you, to me, to everyone.” 

***

Mollie had given up asking about her friend at this point. The only thing they told her was that she would be safe as long as Mollie abided by their terms and did what she was told to do. She had no doubt in her mind that their threat against her friend extended to her mother and the few others she did care about back home. 

Thankfully those she did care about were few and far between. 

She was stuffed into the backseat of an uncomfortable black automobile and flanked by Isaac and Caleb as they made their way from the station through a densely green forest to the infamous Questershire Cabin. Mollie had seen photos of the sprawling gargantuan monstrosity of a property in the paper and on the news. It was one of their more private headquarters along the Southern Border. Why the family insisted on still calling it a cabin baffled the young girl, then again so did most of their interests and decisions. 

Mollie couldn’t see who the driver was from the back and she had no idea if he was with the Insurgency or not. Neither Caleb nor Isaac spoke, and Mollie proceeded to hold herself stiff and formal the entire bumpy ride to the property. There were multiple checks along the way and Mollie internally marvelled at how at ease and expertly professional Caleb and Isaac were. The real royal authority barely even spared her a glance when informed of her Primary status. 

_They must all assume I’m the help,_ Mollie thought as she saw the mansion come into view. _Nothing new there._

When they pulled up at the front of the mansion Mollie couldn’t help but stare. The home was built on top of a massive hill that overlooked the forest and railway station below and Mollie realized just how far up the incline was. The house was made of dark wood and dark brick with a botanical garden taking up most of the front of the landscape. There were bright lights coming from the grand centre window of the house which Mollie deduced was the lobby and the rest of the rooms appeared dark, the French pane windows revealing nothing but an empty abyss behind them. 

“It’s something ain’t it?” Caleb said with a somewhat vexing tone. “If you think it’s big now you should see it when it snows,” he added with a humourless laugh. Mollie swallowed uneasily and prayed she wouldn’t be here long enough to see it by the time the snow came around. 

She noticed Isaac exchange a few words with a guard and she glanced around uneasily. There were numerous guards that lined the property and Mollie noticed that the security seemed more heightened than usual. Mollie wondered why, there didn’t seem to be another home let alone other civilians or residential areas in sight. 

“Send it with the others then.”

Mollie turned around when she heard this and with a sickening lurch realized another guard was referring to _her._

Isaac and Caleb stood still and formal in a similar fashion to the numerous guards that surrounded them. They didn’t make eye contact with her as she was pulled away harshly from the car, her belongings left behind as she was led towards the left side of the expansive house. She was gripped tightly by a guard as they descended down a dark staircase along the back entrance of the property. Mollie scanned her surroundings as best she could, finding certain monuments to mark a spot in case she ever needed to navigate her way around the property herself.

Mollie felt the last bit of warm sunlight fade away against her back as she descended down a dark staircase tactfully obscured from view and wondered at the back of her mind whether she’d ever feel the warmth of the sun’s rays pierce her skin again.


	5. Bore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie finds out more about the Lyon's unorthodox interests and economical pursuits.

Mollie’s tongue felt heavy and dry in her mouth as she struggled to find her bearings in the pitch black room. 

She was parched, starving and breathing heavily. Her eyes were not accustomed to the darkness and her limbs were stiff and clumsy after such a prolonged period of time being confined and non-mobile in a cramped space. The girl shuffled forward her arms in front of her and her back straight. As she ventured forward further into the darkness she felt her ankle hit something low to the ground and with a cry she tumbled forward bringing whatever was standing in front of her down along with her.

There was a brief yelp from whatever Mollie had hit and she scrambled up again in surprise. She was not expecting to encounter anyone else in the dark space and she was instantly on edge.

“Somebody turn on the damn lights.” 

The voice had come from somewhere beyond Mollie and she noticed the voice had a Northern twang to it. This person was definitely not from around here.

There was a groan and murmur that surrounded Mollie and she tensed as the sound of heavy gears echoed across the room and the lights quickly flooded the room. The intensity of the light burned Mollie’ eyes and she recoiled at the brightness rubbing her eyes before gazing around her. 

The first thing she noticed was that there were a number of people surrounding her and most of them were naked. As Mollie stared around her in awe she also realized that the throngs of groups around the room were all female. As a matter of fact, they all appeared to be of Primary status. Mollie had an inkling of what was going on and she felt sick to her stomach. They had all groaned when the lights had turned on and some of them were shooting Mollie irritated glares as they helped each other to their feet. 

People began to stare at her as another petite mousy girl with cuts on her knees and elbows meekly helped the girl she had charged into onto her feet. 

“Watch where you’re going bitch.”

Her voice came out sharp and hateful and Mollie doubled back in surprise. The girl had a messy pixie cut with her dark brown hair splaying in different directions. She had a very pretty face with rosy cheeks and full features and Mollie figured she could be really pretty, when her face wasn’t contorted in a fit of rage.

“It was an accident K,” the smaller girl said. Mollie stared at her as she helped the girl with the pixie cut dust herself off. That girl couldn’t be more than 15 and Mollie felt an instinctive protectiveness toward her. She shouldn’t be here, none of them should. 

“Where am I?” Mollie stuttered. There was an echo of giggles and whispers in the crowd and Mollie turned to look at the rest of them. 

“Who are you assigned to?” another girl asked quietly stepping in front of the others and addressing Mollie directly. 

She was completely naked and at ease as she stood before Mollie, hands on her slender hips and her head tilted to the side in concern. Mollie tried not to stare at her round full breasts and wide hips as the girl stared at Mollie. They must have been around the same age. 

“Assigned?”

Mollie didn’t like where this conversation was going at all.

“I’m not assigned to anyone,” she said more forcefully than she intended. “I’m here to cater for an event.”

Some of the other girls had started to giggle and Mollie glared at them. Pixie girl was the only one with a frown on her face and when Mollie met her eyes she sneered. 

The bare young girl in front of her had a sly smile on her face and Mollie was instantly defensive. 

“Let me see your status card.” 

The other girls had begun to cluster around Mollie and the woman across from her, and Mollie was finding it harder and harder to breathe in the nearly filled room. 

“Primary like the rest of all of you,” she snapped forcing some of the girls around her to take a step back.

Mollie wasn’t very good at making friends and this had always been the case since she was young. At first Mollie didn’t really understand why, but as she grew older she began to realize it must have been due her complete lack of docility and resting bitch face. 

The other girl whistled lowly, a slightly condescending tone in her voice. 

Mollie had to get herself to the dining quarters. If she could sneak into the kitchen quarters from her current position she might be able to disguise herself as one of the kitchen attendants and proceed from there. She would die before she became a submissive sex slave for a spoiled, rich, haughty and impertinent family like the Lyons. 

“One of you,” she spoke loudly addressing the numerous women in the room. “Get me to the kitchen’s quarters and I’ll reward you for it.” 

Again there was a murmur of giggles and whispers through the crowd and many of them turned to look at each other, some full of disdain and others mere confusion. 

“We can’t leave here unless we’re called upon by Sir himself or any of the young masters,” the same mousy girl piped up wrapping a woolly shawl around her flat chest.  
Mollie noticed the door at the other end of the room was slightly ajar and she looked back at the mousy girl in confusion. 

“I don’t understand. The door is open, why not just leave…?” Mollie trailed off her eyes on the sliver of light coming from the opposite end of the door. 

“No you mustn’t,” another young girl said, pure terror overtaking her youthful features. 

Pixie girl rolled her eyes and pushed past some of the others.

“Let her go,” she said with an air of superiority. “I have no qualms with it. She can be rid of us all by the hour and I’ll still sleep like a baby tonight.” 

The girl turned and sauntered towards her little corner where a single pillow, blanket, and book lay in a neat pile on the floor. She pulled the blanket around herself and turned the other way her back facing Mollie. 

“I can help you.”

Mollie watched as a few of them turned to look at her, their silence speaking volumes. 

“If you help me I can help you… all of you,” she repeated this time with more fierceness and volume in her tone. 

The silence that followed was a long one filled with desperate glances and obvious agitation. Mollie half expected someone to speak up and oppose her, or even tell her to get lost, but everyone simply returned to their previous positions and continued on as if there had been no interruption in the first place.

Everyone quietly returned to their previous positions and Mollie glanced around her in confusion. 

The only girl still standing and paying any heed to Mollie’s presence was the petite mousy girl with the flat chest and scraped knees. 

Without even asking she took Mollie’s hand and led her to the far corner of the room directly adjacent to the open door. Mollie swallowed uneasily as she looked at the dirty blanket and faded used pillow that lay on the cold floor. These abhorrent conditions weren’t even suitable for a dog let alone a human. 

“Is this how they keep you?” Mollie asked through gritted teeth her tone laced with hate. “Owning a whole fucking palace and keeping you here like pigs before a slaughter?” 

The girl jumped at Mollie’s tone and disdainful words and her brow furrowed with worry. Mollie regretted swearing in front of the young girl but she was too infuriated to care. The girl reminded Mollie so much of a younger version of herself with her light freckles and wavy mousy brown hair that refused to stay down. Mollie instinctively brushed the waves that had fallen into her face from her forehead and the girl quietly looked up at Mollie. 

“This is where we sleep,” the girl whispered as the lights began to flicker off once again. Mollie looked around her. She had arrived here mid-afternoon to the Lyon residence, why would they be sleeping? It couldn’t be past 16:00. 

The girl took in Mollie’s confused expression and proceeded to explain.

“We work throughout the whole night.” She explained as the girls in front of her began to sleep. “This is the only time of the day where we can catch some sleep.” 

Mollie couldn’t help but feel sick as she looked around the room. Suddenly her thirst and hunger didn’t seem as important anymore. 

“So when do you get to go outside?” Mollie asked quietly as low snoring began to echo through the room. 

“When do you get to see the sun? The sky?”

The girl looked thoughtfully at Mollie. “I don’t need to see it to know what it is,” the girl explained rummaging through her torn pillowcase. 

“Mars exists doesn’t it?” The girl asked Mollie as she pulled out 2 jerky sticks and a measly milk carton from her dirty pillow case. 

“Yes.” Mollie responded.

“And no one has gone there have they? We know how it looks, where its location is, what components give it its colour.” She paused. “Seems like enough information for me to live with. The same applies to the sky. Why must I _have_ to see it if I already know all about it?” 

Mollie wanted to argue with her and inform her of some very valid reasons why her argument was flawed but she decided it was best to just drop the subject. 

She handed Mollie a jerky stick as she sat crossed legged on top her thin blanket on the floor and nibbled her jerky. 

“The milk is a bit warm I apologize,” she said handing a carton to Mollie. 

Mollie glanced at the carton and noticed the brand name that lined the packaging: _Izabel’s Milk._

It was the only brand they sold throughout the country. Mollie found the milk from this brand too thin in consistency and used the whole milk freshly pasteurized from the farm behind her bakery back home in Chartery. This was technically against the rules but Mollie knew her baking, and that fresh milk was the reason her cream cheese icing always came out top notch. 

“Do you want some?” the girl asked pushing the carton into Mollie’s hand. Mollie could smell that it had gone sour days ago and she smiled weakly at the girl and shook her head. The girl shrugged and took another sip before closing the rest and putting it back into her pillowcase. 

“What’s your name?” the girl asked suddenly as she went back to chewing her jerky. Mollie was touched the girl had shared her meagre meal with her and was willing to share some information about herself with the young girl. She was so young and innocent and her eyes wide and almond shaped and framed by dark lashes. She reminded Mollie of a fawn with her eyes and round face. 

“Mollie.” She said quietly brushing the hair out of the young girls eyes again. The girl smiled at Mollie. 

“I like that name,” the young girl said crossing her legs again. 

“I’m Zeta,” she said excitedly as Mollie observed her. 

“Zeta? Like the alphabet?” Mollie added with a smile. 

The girl stared at Mollie, not quite understanding the reference. 

Mollie felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach as the girl furrowed her brow trying to understand Mollie’s comment. 

“What did you say that girl’s name was again?” Mollie asked her voice wavering. 

Zeta turned to look at the girl behind them, the one with the pixie cut who had turned over to face Mollie and Zeta, her eyes open and angry as she stared at the two of them in disgust. 

“Who K?” the girl asked. “That’s Kappa. Don’t mind her, she’s always been a hot head, but her heart is in the right place.”

Mollie suddenly felt very ill and placed her half eaten jerky on top of Zeta’s thin pillow case. 

“What about the others?” she pressed. 

Zeta began scanning the room and pointing out the girls that she knew well to Mollie.

“That’s Eta, and that one there with the black hair is Xi, and the twins, those two are Rho and Phi...”

Mollie was beginning to piece things together and the hate she felt boil within her began to fume. 

“Who gave you these names?”

Zeta faltered and paused as she took in Mollie’s change in demeanour and flat tone. 

“Master Lyon of course,” she said uneasily watching Mollie’s reaction closely.

Mollie narrowed her eyes. “Which one?” 

Zeta sighed. “I’m not sure,” she said quietly. “I can’t remember his name...the tall one with the brown hair.”

Mollie sighed.

 _All_ of them were tall with brown hair.

She sat back as the girl finished off her jerky and folded the packet neatly before placing it gingerly back in her pillowcase. 

“What colour were his eyes?” Mollie asked suddenly her fingers laced together. Zeta looked at her.

The girl thought about it for some time before she responded. “We’re assigned to young Master Lyon of course,” she continued explaining to Mollie as if Mollie knew exactly which one she was referring to.

“He puts us to work.” Mollie paused when she heard this. “He has dark eyes,” she concluded. 

Zeta suddenly looked straight at Mollie her face blank and Mollie felt her hands begin to sweat. This only happened when she was extremely nervous.

“His eyes are a lot like yours,” she mused. “But…I think darker,” she said her eyes trained on Mollie’s irises.

Mollie remembered the eldest Lyon, the one that looked like his father with the dark brown eyes and chestnut hair against pale skin. Seemed like something he would come up with. 

Zeta’s face suddenly blushed and she began to twist her blanket around her. “Sometimes if I do my work really well the pretty Lyon gives me a reward,” she said excitedly her eyes bright.

“The pretty Lyon?” Mollie questioned. 

“The one with the emerald eyes,” she said shyly her cheeks pink. 

_Micah._

Mollie dropped her gaze and placed her hand gently on the young girl’s face. 

“What does he make you do Zeta?” she asked worriedly bile rising in her throat and her face hot with frustration.

 _Wait till I get my hands on him._

“What do you mean he rewards you?” 

Mollie needed to get a grip on herself before she scared the girl off and cut herself off from gaining any more information. 

Zeta looked uncomfortable. 

“He says I’m his favourite and he gives me extra meals,” she says with a shrug. “And he lets me play with Theo. Theo only likes me. Nobody else.” 

Mollie stared at her as Zeta yawned and brushed her overgrown fringe from her eyes. Things were getting stranger by the minute and the more Mollie found out the more confused she became. 

“Theo?” She questioned. “What is that?” 

Mollie would just about lose her shit if Theo ended up being another person. 

“Theo is a puppy,” Zeta said with a giggle. “Theo is the cutest.” 

Mollie was a little dumbfounded. Molle was convinced that either the girl had no idea what a dog really was or perhaps the Lyons really did own a dog. The thought seemed strangely erroneous in Mollie’s mind and something didn’t quite add up. 

“Zeta,” she said. “I need you to do something for me. This is very important.”

The girl blinked away her tiredness in an instant and she perked up as Mollie placed both hands on her cheeks. The more Mollie looked at her, the more convinced Mollie was that she was a little fawn personified into a human child. 

“Do you know your way around the house?” she asked carefully observing the girl closely. The girl nodded. “I was born and raised here.”

Mollie swallowed uneasily and continued.

“Do you know what room in the house Theo is in?” 

Zeta nodded right away. This was important. Mollie didn’t want to enter a room to find some sick creature inside waiting to devour her whole. She had her doubts about “Theo the puppy.” 

“Of course, Theo is in Master Lyon’s chambers.” 

Mollie refrained from rolling her eyes in front of the girl. She couldn’t believe she was saying this.

“The pretty Lyon’s chambers?” she asked dully.

Zeta nodded and giggled once again. 

Mollie sighed and ripped a piece of fabric from the inside of her dress and laid it down on the floor in front of her. She then fished in her pocket searching for a pen and encountered a tiny little vial. Her hand froze when her fingers met the cold metal and she tensed instantly. 

_Caleb was staring hard at her as the moonlight loomed in through the window casting a spotlight over the two of them._

_“Do you know what this here is Mollie?”_

_He had fished into his breast pocket and pulled out a tiny little vial with a hole in the top and a clear glass tube in the centre. The glass tube was filled with a small amount of powder that left residue on the inside of the tube._

_Mollie stared hard at what he was holding._

_“I have no idea.”_

_He paced briefly up and down the small space before walking straight up to her and looking her in the eyes._

_“You ever heard of anthrax Mollie?”_

_Mollie glanced sharply at him. Of course she had, there had been a big outbreak a couple years back that the authorities quickly dealt with in no time._

_“Yes, the kids sometimes get it on their hands when they dig in the farmers field,” she continued. “It gets cleared up with a single dose of antibiotics.”_

_Caleb nodded in agreement._

_“Yes of course. One litre of anthrax is nothing to fear of course.”_

_Mollie wondered where this was going as he slowly turned the vial in his dark fingers._

_“Bacillus anthracis,” he said after a brief silence. “The causative agent of anthrax.”_

_Mollie stared at him._

_“Is that what you have in there?” she asked curiously his fingers continually twisting the vial back and forth._

_“Too right you are,” he said with an odd glint in his eye._

_Mollie didn’t like where this was going. A fight and even a gunshot she could still make it out alive…but biohazardous material, now that was a different ballgame altogether._

_“You know what’s great about these little buggers?” he said casually tapping the vial so the powder inside fell from the sides to the bottom._

_“They make spores. One of the smallest, and most difficult entities to kill on this planet. Those microbes even survive an autoclave at 121 degrees Celsius at tremendously high pressure…resilient nasty fuckers.”_

_Mollie closed her eyes briefly. She knew about anthrax, the government had used it as a bioterrorist weapon against neighbouring states during the early days of land claiming and sovereignty. Then they banned it altogether…or so they claimed as a new approach to peaceful settlement and negotiation._

_“1 L of this stuff, won’t kill you…but 1000 L of milled powdered anthrax is enough to wipe out an entire village.”_

_“If things don’t go well for you in the utmost dire circumstances Mollie, and you are absolutely sure of yourself that there is no way out, take one of them down with you with this. We all carry one with us just in case…”_

Suddenly the vial weighed a thousand pounds heavier and she quickly released the vial from her grip and let it drop to the bottom of her pocket. She hoped she would _never_ have to use it, even in the most severe of situations she encountered. 

“What are you doing?” the girl squealed when Mollie took a thin pocket knife she kept wrapped around her thigh and slit the side of her wrist to create a small laceration. 

“Making ink,” she replied pouring the blood that flowed down her wrist into the plastic wrapper that came with the jerky. 

Zeta watched wide eyed as Mollie accumulated as much blood as she could muster into the small packet then looked at the girl. She pushed the packet towards the girl and looked down at the cloth in front of them. 

“Make me the best map you can Zeta,” she asked the girl quietly. “And I promise…” she paused. “I swear to you I’ll get us both out of here.” 

The girl seemed to have warmed up to Mollie and nodded her head in understanding. Mollie wasn’t quite convinced that the girl had grasped the weight of her words or the gravity of the situation but Mollie needed her now more than ever.

***

The map was clumsy and smudged more than Mollie had liked but it was a solid start. 

The blood had dried into a purply colour but the material of the dress had held the liquid well. Mollie had guessed it must have been going for dinner time as Mollie heard some of the women around them begin to wake up. 

According to Zeta’s map the door from their current room led into a hallway which then broke into 3 more hallways, one leading to the kitchen and the other two somewhere else? There were so many rooms on the maps with question marks Mollie was having a hard time even keeping track of even the basic cardinal directions let alone the hallways. 

Mollie would have to take her chances by the time she got to that split landing and she prayed she wouldn’t run into anyone suspicious. According to the girls, they hadn’t been working for several days now as the Lyons had been away on business. They only returned to the cabin for family gatherings altogether at certain times of the year. It seemed no one else was currently in the mansion and Mollie hoped she’d be able to make it to the kitchen quarters before they or any other royal member crossed her path. 

The more Mollie examined the map the more hopeless finding her way seemed. This was going to be extremely risky but she couldn’t ask any more of this girl. 

“Perhaps I should come with you?” Zeta asked as Mollie gingerly stepped over several sleeping bodies towards the arched doorway. 

She hesitated.

“No, I can’t afford for you to get into trouble because of me, if we do end up getting caught.”

“We won’t get caught,” the girl said quietly. 

She slipped her hand inside Mollie’s and pulled a cardigan over herself and the thin white dress she had on. 

Mollie was adamant, but she needed the girl if she were to find a way out of here. 

“Thank you…again,” Mollie said genuinely. 

The girl just smiled at her and tugged her along.


	6. Carbone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie has her first encounter with the Lyons.

The mansion really was something.

If Mollie hadn’t been so stressed out she would have stood still and appreciated all that the mansion had to offer from the golden trimming along the ceilings, to the ornately lit chandelier, to the plush fur rug that spanned the entire lobby. Mollie found it incredibly bizarre that there were no guards, no people…nothing but empty unused space throughout the massive residence.

Each room was lavishly furnished and everything seemed to be placed in a particular spot for a particular purpose. It was unsettling in the most unpleasant of ways. 

There were leather sofas lined with thick blankets that hadn’t looked like they had ever been used, delicate goblets behind glass cabinets that looked like they hadn’t held a drink in years, and most of all an eerie silence that ensued as she dashed along tiled corridors, the only sound that reverberated off the walls being the young girls bare feet slapping across the marbled floor. 

Mollie stopped suddenly when she heard voices from behind them. They were far from their starting point and Mollie was beginning to panic. The young girl in front of Mollie suddenly pushed the wall in front of them to reveal another smaller corridor lined with torch mantlepieces along the wall. 

_How did she even know about this?_

“The kitchen is through that corridor and down the right staircase,” Zeta said with a nod of her head before glancing behind her. 

“Thank you so much Zeta,” she whispered swiping her hand across her cheek in a gesture of affection. The voices were growing and Mollie knew they needed to leave immediately. 

“Do you know your way back? Will you be alright?”

The girl nodded and scampered back the way they had come her footsteps echoing for a moment before the silence overtook her and the mansion became still once again.

Mollie entered the corridor and closed the door firmly shut behind her. As the darkness enveloped her she began to hear the tinkling of glassware and the exchange of a conversation. Her hands began to sweat and her heart rate increased as she sped up her pace in the dark hidden corridor towards the noise.

_Could it be?_

Mollie had began to sense that it had gotten increasingly cold in the corridor and realized it was situated at a slightly lower elevation than the main level. The sounds began to level out near her ears as she slowly approached a crack in the thick aged brick that lined the walls. Mollie had also picked up on a pleasant odour that resembled fresh saffron and crisp mint leaves. If Mollie hadn’t been so stressed she would have doubled back at the smell of fresh food and produce that saturated her olfactory receptors. Ignoring the knot in her stomach and the lump in her throat she slowly pressed her eye into the crack in the wall and peered into the room before her.

The first thing she noticed was **Red.**

Red walls, red carpet, and red tablecloth that lined a dark mahogany table situated in the centre of the room. 

She could see 5 members directly across from the table facing her and 3 others closest to her with their backs directly to her. She eyed them closely one by one and her heart leapt to her throat when she eyed the individual in the centre of the table. Mollie swallowed uneasily when she saw them and her heart beat increased rapidly. She had thought they wouldn’t be back for another day or two. Yet here they were, conversing, dining, and so utterly present. 

Hartley Lyon sat still and poised in the centre of the table in a midnight blue waistcoat with a cream coloured shirt underneath that clung to his muscular arms like a second skin. His dark hair was combed and teased into a side part and a flashy expensive silver ascot was tied intricately around his neck above a long silver chain bearing the Lyon insignia. His eyes were trained on the goblet of red wine in his left hand and he swirled it slightly as his handsome face remained blank and his posture stiff. 

Food was being brought in by numerous royal servants and Mollie had lost track of how many servants and how _much_ food had been brought in to line the table. 

Her eyes travelled to James and Rowan who sat next to each other in similar attire to their father a clear liquid in James’ goblet and red wine in Rowans. When Mollie trained her eyes on the last Lyon she felt her blood turn cold. 

Micah Lyon sat still and casual at the very end of the table his arms folded on the rich wood as he swirled whiskey in a glass, his eyes fixed on the drink in front of him like his father. He sported a snowy white dress shirt with the collar up and stiff around his neck, and what appeared to be slim dark trousers held tightly by a belt bearing the Lyon insignia. His hair was lighter than Mollie had first assumed, and Mollie wondered whether that was due to the southern sun. His caramel locks seemed lighter, the gold streaks within them slowly overtaking the brown. His hair was thick and lustrous around his head and Mollie could tell from his messy part that he ran his fingers through it quite frequently. 

James was leaning in to listen to something his brother Rowan was telling him and Mollie noticed that they seemed to be more in sync with each other than anyone else at the table. Micah remained stoic and cold at the end of the table unperturbed by the conversations happening around him.

Laughter erupted from the adjacent end of the table and Mollie’s eyes flickered to the man sitting on the opposite side of Hartley. He had honey blond hair that was stylishly gelled into a wavy up-do and a pale complexion similar to Hartley. Mollie speculated that they may have been business partners or extended family of some sort. None of the Lyon’s reacted as the blond one raised his glass amongst a burst of laugher from the 3 members on the opposite side of the table whose faces Mollie could not see.

“Where is she?” the blond man drawled with a slight accent Mollie had never heard before. “Bring her in please!” 

Mollie held her breath despite her deeply uncomfortable position, and watched as servants quietly and quickly brought in a young girl. Mollie had recognized her from earlier, she was one of the twins….

“Rho!”

Mollie’s eyes flashed to James as his deep voice filled the room.

“Poor thing looks half starved.” 

James snapped his fingers and quickly a dish was prepared and plated with various delicacies from across the table and an extra chair brought to the end of the table. 

The girl didn’t look scared or frightened in any way and she wore a similar plain white dress that Zeta had sported earlier.

The blond man surveyed her with a grin on his face that irked Mollie instantly. 

The girl had only taken a couple bites of her food when the man brought her to her feet and peeled down the front of her dress so she stood bare and exposed to all at the table. 

“Mmm,” he moaned as he cupped a breast in one of his hands. 

“Let her finish her meal before you start yours Logan,” another voice called from the other end of the table before a wave of laugher echoed across the room.

The blond man named Logan snickered at the man.

“I don’t mean to indulge in dessert before dinner is over but I find myself drunk on the whiskey far before the soups and salads arrived.”

Mollie noticed how nonchalant Hartley appeared at the centre of the table as he poured more red wine into his goblet. He didn’t spare a single glance at the nude girl standing before them. It was as if she wasn’t even present at the table.

Mollie also found it strange that no one had really touched any of the lavish food that filled the tables. It was as if the food was there for show, to be displayed and appreciated but not sampled. 

Mollie felt sick as Logan latched onto the right breast of the girl and sucked as the young girl jerked at the sudden sensation.

There was a look of raw unfulfilled passion in the man’s eyes as he clutched the girls other breast that had begun to leak droplets of milk from the pressure exerted on her from his fist. This continued on for quite some time, the previously quiet room bombarded by the sound of sloppy suckling and high pitched moaning. 

The man released the girls pink nipple with a sharp pop, then proceeded to down a fresh glass of whiskey as the girl collapsed into her seat sweating and breathless. 

“Nothing like a little sweetness to obscure the bitterness of aged whiskey,” he murmured as he too collapsed in his seat and addressed the man across from him with a sharp nod. 

Suddenly he turned and cast his eyes towards the opposite end of the table, where James and Rowan sat conversing, their heads turned inwards towards each other, and Micah remained at the end, halfway through pouring himself another glass of whiskey. 

“I’ve been kind enough to leave some left over dessert for my favourite nephew.” 

The table had gone quiet after this and Mollie watched, not daring to breathe, as many heads began to turn toward the end of the table. 

The young girl had straightened up silently and sensually walked past the long table bearing the exuberant display of food, her full milky thighs swaying as she made her way towards the youngest prince. 

Mollie was drenched in sweat at this point and her knees were aching from holding such a long uncomfortable position for so long but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from what she was witnessing. 

“May I indulge you Master Lyon?” she asked playfully brushing her hair over her shoulder. 

Mollie immediately noticed the shrewd smile on James’ face as he observed his youngest brother and wondered what inside joke she was missing out on. 

Hartley glanced at his youngest son once before turning to another member of the table and nodding his head in agreement of something, already dismissing the events occurring on the other end of his table. Rowan watched his younger brother with a bored expression for only a brief moment, before opting to take out his pocket watch and fiddle with the dials.

Mollie couldn’t quite get over the blatant carelessness of these men. Such acts of vulgarity were strongly frowned upon in society yet these men, the masterminds behind the rules of their society, the enforcers of these rules, so dismissively engaged upon these derogatory acts in such a blasé manner. 

Mollie watched as Micah’s eyes finally separated from its fixed position on his whiskey glass to meet his supposed uncle at the opposite end of the table. The blond man was staring hard at the young prince and Mollie wondered whether this was some sort of initiation or challenge. Even if it was, the prince didn’t reveal anything as his face remained blank, composed and utterly sublime. 

He slowly lifted his arm towards the young girl beside him and trailed his fingers up her exposed arm, a subtle invitation for her to initiate. The girl immediately lowered herself down onto the prince, wrapping her legs around his waist as he planted a soft kiss on the edge of her breast. Her head fell backwards, long black hair obscuring the prince’s face from Mollie’s view as he latched onto her other breast and proceeded to feast from all the girl had to offer.

Milk had begun to drip down the girls chest and she had begun to moan and mewl before him. Mollie knew the tone of her whines and could attribute them to the orgasmic pleasure she must have been experiencing as the prince suckled her. Mollie caught a glimpse of the young prince’s face over the girl’s pale shoulder as he continued to suckle and please her. Suddenly his eyes flashed opened as the girl moved against him to wrap her thin arms around his neck and his eyes landed solely on Mollie’s in an electrifying whir of green on brown. 

Mollie recoiled immediately proceeding to slam her head against the back of the tight narrow corridor. She ducked as hastily as she could clutching her stomach with one hand as bile threatened to rise up and spew from her trembling mouth and using her other hand to hold the bruise beginning to form on the back of her head.

_Had he seen her?_

Mollie was visibly shaking and she gulped down air as quietly as she could despite the cold dusty air that surrounded her. Her head was throbbing and her knees aching, but by the time Mollie placed her eye against the crack in the wall once more, the seat at the end of the table was empty and Micah Lyon was nowhere to be seen. 

The young girl had returned to her chair at the other end of the table and was swiftly finishing her meal, her dress back on and her eyes fixed on the plate in front of her. Mollie couldn’t help but draw her eyes back to the vacant chair at the far end of the table, where 2 empty glasses stood side by side along the red tablecloth, the only indication that someone had indeed occupied that seat only moments before.

His absence bothered Mollie more than it should have.

It could have been her imagination playing tricks on her when his eyes met hers, or perhaps he had simply looked somewhere beyond Mollie. The more she tried recycling these scenarios in her head the less viable they became. 

Without wasting any more time Mollie slipped past the crack on the wall and as quickly and as quietly as she dared, made her way to the end of the corridor, the events that she had just witnessed flashing in her mind like a reel equipped with infinite film.


	7. Azote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans begin to come to fruition and actions are taken by both sides.

Mollie was hungry, tired, and severely dehydrated and her vision was blurring around the edges. She had managed to finally find her way to the kitchen quarters. 

She could hear the constant dispense of water into basins and the clanging of dishes and cutlery. She knew she was close. She felt her way around the tunnel walls to aid in guiding her to the light around the corner. Mollie could see the beginning of marble floor appearing before her and as she pulled herself along she felt a sharp tug from behind her. Before she could scream her mouth was covered and her hands tied behind her. 

_He had found her._

Mollie squirmed and twisted her body in attempt to loosen the iron grip around her torso. There was a grunt as she gave a hard kick backwards.

“Mollie!”

The familiar voice in her ear brought her back to her senses and she immediately dropped her defensive position.

“Isaac?” She whispered in shock. The hand was swiftly removed from her mouth and she twisted her head around to come face to face with the sandy haired boy. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Isaac grinned at her as they both stumbled their way into the nearest room which turned out to be a spare unfurnished pantry. 

“We told you we wouldn’t send you in here alone didn’t we?”

Mollie gave him a weak smile then looked away swiftly. 

She had a torrent of thoughts weighing her down and she just wanted to leave the Lyon premises as soon as possible. 

“I’m trying to find my way to the staff quarters,” Mollie explained. 

“I figured.” Isaac said with a grin. 

Too soon, the smile was wiped from his face and a familiar expression of concern spread across his features.

“It’s a good thing I found you before then. The staff quarters are not the place for you.”

Mollie narrowed her eyes at him. 

“But you were fine leading me into a basement full of sex slaves?”

Mollie’s voice raised a little louder than she intended and they both cringed when they heard footsteps approaching their covert location. 

When the footsteps disappeared Isaac immediately turned on her. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

Isaac’s face was a mix of concern and disgust and Mollie wondered how much him and his ridiculous Insurgency truly knew about the Lyons. 

“You’re telling me that you’re unaware the Lyons are running their own sex slave empire?” Mollie hissed trying her best to keep her voice down. 

Isaac paused for quite some time before turning back to Mollie and addressing her head on. 

“Oh we had our suspicions,” Isaac said with a frown. “We just had no evidence to prove that it was true....till now.”

Mollie looked sharply at him. 

“You’ve been there, you’ve witnessed it!” Isaac said excitedly. “That’s more than anyone else has ever accomplished so far.” 

Mollie certainly didn’t like where this conversation was going. 

“Even if I did get evidence who the hell are you going to show it to and who is going to believe it?” Mollie asked crossing her arms across her chest. 

“The Lyons have too much power. They’ll have us all killed if we try to expose them.”

Mollie took a deep breath as she continued her rant. 

“Not to mention they’re buddies with all of the internal authority and external authority outside of their monarchy which extends to all the other countries that border us.” 

Isaac was mirroring her with his arms crossed across his chest, his uniform pressed and the Lyon insignia pinned on the side of his chest. Mollie couldn’t help glancing at it every time he addressed her. Mollie didn’t even want to think about what the Lyons would do to him if he got caught...

“Mollie.” He said quietly. “Let us decide how we’re going to expose the Lyons. That’s our job. Focus on your tasks.” 

He paused again as Mollie angrily turned away from him. She wanted more information about both the Lyons and the Insurgency and she wasn’t getting her way. It was making her blood boil. 

“You are doing beautifully by the way.” 

Mollie’s eyes flashed to Isaac, surprise lacing her features as he stared back at her with genuine admiration. 

“I knew you could do it. I _told_ Caleb you were more than capable.”

He was beginning to murmur now and Mollie had to lean in closer to hear him clearly. 

“There was something about you. Something fierce.”

Mollie cut him off. She had heard enough. 

“I’m not staying in that basement,” she said with strong finality in her tone. “I’d rather sleep outside.” 

Isaac sighed when he heard this. 

“Mollie, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb in the kitchens quarters. The Lyons don’t have just anyone working for them in their kitchens, those people are fiercely loyal. You’ll be compromised and exposed all within the hour.” 

“Then what exactly do you suggest?” Mollie asked with her arms crossed.

Isaac looked at her, appraisal lining his features.

“I think I’ve got an idea…”

****

It was a long, tiresome, and monotonous day for Esperanza. She had prepared the Lyon Questershire residence for guests and spent the afternoon ordering the kitchen staff around. As the longest serving and surviving member of the Lyon family’s immediate staff, she had seen her fair share of events throughout her lifetime. But Esperanza was an expert at compartmentalization, she had mastered it at a very early age in her career and that was the reason why she was alive and well today. 

Oftentimes the mature woman thought about running away and never looking back, or perhaps letting herself fall over the cliff just beyond the mansion into the cacophonous turmoil of jagged rocks and strident waves that threatened to pull her under. But then she thought about her children and the beautiful future that lay ahead of them because of her sacrifices, and she immediately let those thoughts evaporate from her mind. 

_It was worth it. For them._

That was what she was promised. Her family would never want for anything and awaiting them would be high class jobs entrenched within societies composed of only the elite. They would never know what it meant to be a Primary citizen, like she was all those years ago. They would never have to experience the repercussions of ingrained ascription or the implications associated with social mobility. These thoughts are what guided her through her most darkest days and allowed her the privilege of overcoming the crippling insomnia that had plagued her during her early days as a royal servant of the Lyon monarchy. 

On some days like this one, her insomnia did get the better of her and she preferred to step outside into the cool early morning air and walk to the cliff’s edge to watch the sun rise in the distance. The walk to the cliff in reality was much farther than it first appeared from the Lyon mansion, but Esperanza enjoyed the walk. It cleared her mind and kept her sane. 

As she approached the cliffs edge she saw a figure standing near the edge draped in a rich velvet cloak its attention focused on the still dark sky. 

“Master Lyon,” she greeted quietly, curtsying involuntarily. “I was unaware you would be here so early. I shall leave you in peace.” 

The prince turned his head ever so slightly to acknowledge her and Esperanza quickly dropped her gaze. It was forbidden to look directly into the eyes of a royal, especially given her position and Esperanza took these rules extremely seriously. After all, her life and her children’s lives depended on it. 

“No,” he murmured. “You can stay.” 

He turned his gaze back to the sky and Esperanza sighed internally. 

_He has grown so much._

Esperanza had always harboured a soft spot for Micah Lyon and she knew deep down he did for her as well. After all, she was there to take him in her arms when he gasped his first breath as a new born, his mother still and unblinking as she lay ripped apart on crimson stained bed sheets. Esperanza was the one who nursed him and was present when he took his first steps. She was the one he cried to when his brothers decided to unleash their horrors on the small child, though those days never lasted long and the boy learned quickly. He had always been a child of few words and she saw that even in adulthood that was a trait that remained unchanged. 

“What of the transaction this morning?” he asked quietly his gaze locked on the sky in front of him.

Even from his side profile Esperanza could see the luminous haze from the prince’s bright eyes. She always found it strange how so _unlike_ his mother the boy looked. 

“Completed Master Lyon,” she responded promptly. “The goods were sent out late last night.” 

He nodded once and remained silent, his back straight and his face blank. 

They stood like that for an immeasurable amount of time until the first haze of the sun crept into the blanket of the night sky, its rays piercing through pummels of cirrus clouds to illuminate the expanding horizon. 

With dexterity that would put even the most experienced dancer to shame, the prince turned silently on his heel and disappeared into the canopy of green foliage behind them as the sun unleashed its full rays onto the older woman’s face, the heat enveloping her, and the first chirps of the birds signalling that her day had now begun. 

****

Mollie had managed to keep her mouth in check and she internally praised herself at her great fortitude so far.

The idea of remaining on the roof was a brilliant one and she hated that she hadn’t come up with that plan for herself. The mansion was so large and monstrous that she had plenty of space to remain mobile and ample coverage from the towers to keep herself hidden as well as to lay out a bird eye view of the entire residence. Furthermore, she could keep track of who was leaving and exiting the mansion. 

Isaac had slipped her some food and some water that would last her several days and keep her from having to sneak into the kitchens quarters. She had already seen James Lyon exit the mansion and leave in an expensive black automobile into the dense foliage ahead. She felt a bit more comfortable knowing he wasn’t present in the mansion. There was something about him that radiated turpitude and Mollie felt most unpleasant when she regarded his dark eyes. 

There was an event happening in the mansion that night and Mollie could tell from the bustling of servants at the far end of the tower. It seemed they were having guests and Mollie figured this was her best chance at getting into Hartley Lyon’s chambers. 

Isaac had managed to steal her a Lyon servant’s royal uniform and Mollie was thankful for it. Her dress had been reduced to tatters and was doing little to serve its purpose at covering her skinny body. She gingerly slipped the little glass vial into the breast pocket of her uniform and managed to coax her dark brown curls into a long thick plait down her back. Her hair was almost to her waist and she desperately needed a haircut, it was becoming almost too much to maintain especially given her current state of affairs. It certainly wasn’t as neat or groomed as the few other royal guards she had seen around the mansion but it would suffice. At least she wasn’t as conspicuous anymore. 

Glancing quickly at the sun’s position in the sky Mollie deduced it must be close to 14:00. She reckoned it would be best to make her way to the tower where activity seemed to be at an all time high.

Mollie would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. In fact she was terrified. Despite having a better grasp of the different locations around the premises, the prospect of running into a Lyon or some other awful higher authority kept playing through her mind and she tried her best to swallow those thoughts away. Mollie wiped her sweaty hands on the front of her uniform and with a deep breath began to navigate her way towards the West tower.


	8. Oxygène

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie's undercover antics prove to be more cumbersome than she ever imagined

The rich smell of rosemary, oregano, and zaatar filled Mollie’s nose as she shuffled past a throng of servants carrying in produce from a large grand vehicle outdoors. As swiftly and as covertly as she could manage she grabbed an apron and slipped it on. It was red and bearing the Lyon insignia like most objects around the mansion. 

Mollie believed it was another artful tactic of the Lyons to promulgate their dominance and spread their pervasive influence over every _thing_ and every _one_. The thought made her nauseous despite the pleasing aromas that surrounded her. 

“Why are you just standing there?” someone snapped at her from behind. She turned around and came face to face with a plump older woman carrying in a large barrel of freshly picked tomatoes. Mollie had made her way to the produce room and she knew there was a direct door from this room into a main part of the mansion. 

Her face was red with exhaustion and Mollie thought she looked rather like a tomato herself with her frizzy red hair and flushed face.

“Get in there and setup,” she snapped again brushing past Mollie and giving her a purposefully hard shove to the shoulder.

Mollie frowned at the woman and took another glance around the room. Everyone did seem to be fairly pre-occupied so she felt it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek inside…

Mollie could immediately tell from the doors that it was not the same room she had seen the Lyons dining in the night before. This one was grander, larger, and more opulent. It resembled more of a ballroom than a dining room and Mollie focused on steadying her ragged breaths. As she pushed open the door the first thing she saw were people. Throngs and throngs of people dressed in elaborate silks and sophisticated clothing. 

“ _Just great_ ,” she thought as she navigated her way through the crowd.

People completely ignored her for the most part and this worked out well for Mollie. 

She was instantly drawn to the dessert table where cakes, cupcakes, macarons and various other delicacies lined the table. It reminded her of the bakery and Mollie wondered how her other colleagues were faring. She noticed jars full of sugar were lined along the table and she was instantly drawn to the jar full of brown sugar.

It looked vaguely familiar to her and she suddenly had an idea…

****

Mollie had already circulated the room several times but had encountered nothing useful nor suspicious. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a look around the dessert table, she was a baker after all. 

As Mollie approached the table she was instantly drawn to the Malva pudding. Her grandmother used to make it all the time when she was younger and the memory brought an instant pain to her chest. She found it a curious delicacy amongst the other dishes, as it was a dish famous in Atoria, which was not a country within the Lyon regime. They must have visitors from elsewhere at this gathering. 

Curiosity got the better of Mollie and she scanned the crowd carefully which had grown substantially since she entered the ballroom. She spotted the mayor of Chartery in a corner dressed in a silk maroon suit laughing with other members of the elite. She gritted her teeth and continued searching the room. She never liked the mayor of her hometown and now she had a valid reason to back her speculations.

_Fucking sellout_

She didn’t see any of the Lyon’s present and Mollie wondered what kind of hosts didn’t show up to converse with their own guests. Then again, the Lyons were not typical people to begin with. 

Out of the corner of her eye Mollie began to watch as royal servants quietly filed out of the room one by one in a rehearsed manner. It was as if they all had some pre-determined routine in their head as they joined into the centre of the room and single file exited the ballroom. 

“ _It must be for business,_ ” Mollie thought as she scrambled to join the others. 

_They probably didn’t trust having servants in the room... and they had every reason not to trust them._

Mollie was clumsy and struggled to catch up with the others who kept their faces blank and their eyes down. As she burst out of the Lyon ballroom she was met with an empty marble hallway. 

_Where the hell did everyone go?_

Mollie’s hands began to sweat and her breathing began to increase as she whirled around looking for the others. She could hear footsteps approaching from the hallway to her left and she quickly took her chances and dashed for the opposite arched doorway. Before she could even scan the room she burst inside and slammed the door behind her. 

Mollie was gulping down air to calm her rapid heartbeat and shaking hands. 

_That was too close._

She had gotten distracted and her pre-occupations had nearly exposed her. As she breathed again she felt a cold creeping feeling make its way down her spine. She slowly opened her eyes and tried her best to keep her heightened nerves at bay before turning around slowly. 

He stood in the middle of the room as still as an island in a hurricane and as cold and motionless as the marble statues that lined the Lyon residence. 

She had walked straight into the lion’s den and she had done so willingly and naïvely. 

***

The silence in the air was palpable and went on for far too long. Mollie had seen him several times on her old dusty television back home but never in person. And she realized now, what little justice the television portrayed him to be than in actuality. 

He had a midnight blue cloak draped over himself adorned with threads of silvery material that looked like constellations against the rich fabric. He wore tall leather boots adorned with fur lining along the top that matched the fur around his collar. His hair was loose in its usual wavy fashion, with a caramel coloured curl or two falling over the side of his forehead. He looked ethereal and Mollie felt small and exposed standing before his unwavering gaze.

Mollie also noticed that he was _very_ tall and realized that it really did make him look more threatening. 

The silence was prevailing for far too long but Mollie was not going to be the one to break it. She didn’t trust herself enough with what might come out of her mouth. 

Mollie was quite tall herself and it didn’t take much for her to meet his eyes. Mollie didn’t fail to notice how his jaw flexed when she did so. He was incredibly handsome with his sharp features and pale green eyes but there was something incredibly off about his aura that set Mollie’s hairs on end. 

His lips had parted ever so slightly when she had entered and she couldn’t quite deduce his expression which appeared to be a mix of surprise and appraisal. 

No words were exchanged apart from Mollie’s heavy breathing and Micah Lyon’s eerily intense gaze. 

As quickly as she could muster the girl turned on her heel, flung the door open and fled down the hallway. She was running at full speed as fast as her long legs could take her and didn’t stop until she had reached the open window in the East wing leading to the roof and her temporary safe haven. Her lungs were burning, her hair a sweaty mess against her face, and her heart was beating too fast for her to comprehend. 

She had just broken the first and most important rule of her mission.

 _Don’t let them see your face._


	9. Fluor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie experiences some troubles along the way that may hinder her mission

Mollie hadn’t stopped running.

She had managed to run all the way to the East tower undetected and had discarded the red apron around her along the way, but she couldn’t shake that cold biting feeling over her shoulder that someone was following her. She scrambled onto the roof of the house and began to navigate her way across the treacherous landing as swiftly and as steadily as she could manage. 

Her hair was tangled around her face and her thick uncomfortable tunic was twisted around her chest in the most unpleasant of ways. Mollie had jumped from tower to tower and could see her temporary haven in the distance shrouded from view and concealed by a thick layer of vines. There was a large space between her hiding spot and her current position along the roof but the girl had done this before and with ease. 

Although she had made this jump several times before, her previous encounter with the youngest Lyon had hindered her usual quick reflexes and sharp thinking, and in her haste she had simply forgotten to propel herself forward with the usual extra force she usually mustered.

As she felt herself descend, she felt her ankle hit the barrier of the wall with a loud crack. She cried out in pain as the jump sent her shooting over the barrier and straight into the adjacent wall where her elbows met concrete and her torso the rocky border of the mansion.

The crash had knocked the air clean out of her lungs and the force exerted on her body from the wall left her crumpled and broken on the rough flooring.

The pain hit her afterward like a deep carnivorous black hole squeezing her lungs with compression and twisting her bones like a mincer. She groaned as her vision began to blur and dark spots appeared at the corner of her vision.

Mollie had definitely broken something and she couldn’t even move her right ankle let alone feel the other. With one last gasp the darkness overtook her and she let herself fall into a chasm of shadows. 

***

It was unusual for Esperanza to finish her work early especially after a full days’ worth of entertaining guests, but she welcomed the free time thankfully. This meeting was a particularly grand affair and she had watched Hartley and his sons engage with their guests and entertain them lavishly, as always. 

Well, almost all of his sons.

It wasn’t unusual for Micah Lyon to be absent during business meetings but his attendance was required and he did not show. Esperanza was nervous for him but she knew the boy could handle himself. 

As she took her usual walk around the gardens in front of the mansion she felt something in her gut that wasn’t right. As she gazed upon the looming mansion she noticed a dark object flying in the wind. Despite her age and weathered skin, the woman’s eyes were still as sharp as an eagle’s and she zeroed in on the foreign object. Without wasting any more time the woman exited the garden and made her way towards the unidentified figure. 

It had taken several attempts before Esperanza made it to the roof and towards the unknown figure. When she finally made her way towards it she couldn’t help but gasp in shock. 

It was a girl, no, a servant girl who appeared to have had a terrible accident. 

Her leg was bent at an awkward angle and her arms were covered in cuts and bruises. The girl had full thick luscious locks that was splayed out around her youthful face in a cascade of curls. 

The girl looked sixteen with smooth sun kissed tanned skin and a light layer of freckles around her perky nose. Esperanza had never seen her before and she was immediately suspicious. The girl was such a pretty little thing and she reminded Esperanza of her daughter but with a slightly deeper complexion and much longer legs. 

She was a little too pretty and too young to be a part of the royal staff. 

“What happened to you darling?” she whispered as she touched the girls cheek then proceeded to check her pulse. Although it was faint, it was there and Esperanza breathed a sigh of relief. 

The girl was not one of the slaves, the shipment had left early the previous night and Esperanza knew which ones were permanent residents of the Questershire mansion. It was as if she fell from the sky in a heap and was left out for the next poor unfortunate soul to find. 

Her uniform puzzled the old woman but she decided it was best to question the girl about it when she was healed. As gingerly as she could muster, she lifted the girl in her arms and brought her to her quarters. 

The girl was incredibly light considering her height and Esperanza was immediately concerned. She could feel the girls ribs poking against her chest as she walked and could feel the abnormally high heat radiating from the girls skin. 

She was running a fever. 

As she rounded the corner she spotted Master Micah Lyon conversing quietly with another guard, his face bored and his arms crossed. His sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on Esperanza then flickered down to the frail body in her arms. 

It was as if he was expecting Esperanza.

Interest flickered within his green eyes bringing his usual placid face to life.

He walked up to the older woman abruptly, leaving his previous conversation behind him, his long legs closing the distance between them. 

As he looked down at the young girl a slow secretive smile spread across his youthful features.

“I see you found the little mouse.”


	10. Néon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie's nightmare begins and her dreams of the future seem more distant than ever.

The first thing Mollie felt was pain. A sharp needle like pain that spread from her lower leg up to her temple. The pain was sharp and crippling and she could hear herself moaning from the prickly sensation. 

There was music playing in the background. 

A dark, foreboding but painfully familiar melody that Mollie recognized immediately. She couldn’t quite remember where she had heard it, but she knew it. She most definitely knew it. She had heard it many times before within a memory that she had thought was previously inaccessible. 

Mollie perked up when she heard the pleasing melodious tune and she slowly opened her eyes. 

She was lying on something soft but cool and her leg was slightly elevated. Her ankle was swollen and her skin had a blossoming purple bruise where it had hit the barrier. Her elbows were bandaged and a cool towel was laid out against her forehead. 

Mollie had remembered what had happened and she suddenly felt a pang of raw terror run through her. Her eyes met a beautiful mural circled around the centre of the ceiling into an inward dome. It was very Romanesque and Mollie was drawn to it. Mollie wasn’t sure how long she had been unconscious but she didn’t feel parched or nauseous. Rather, she felt a little hungry. 

She gazed around her and realized she was in a bedroom.

It was dark and dingy and there were no windows. The room was illuminated by candlelight and a fireplace was situated near the front of the room its embers crackling in short periodic spurts. It was cold and eerily quiet and Mollie suddenly felt a sharp pang of claustrophobia engulf her. 

As she looked down, she noticed that she was dressed in one of those familiar thin white dresses that did little to cover her body and little to retain body heat. 

_Where was her uniform?_

As her eyes scanned the room she spotted a lone figure against the door, the posture stiff and the stance still. It resembled one of those creepy human sizes statues that lined the gardens at the front of the house. 

Still, silent and colder than a winter’s night.

He could see her, that much Mollie knew and she brazenly stared back. 

_If I’m going to die anyway I might as well go down with a fight._

The tension from their previous encounter was nothing compared to the straining potency between them now. And this time Mollie wouldn’t back down. 

He slowly approached her, his footsteps imperceptible between the crackling fireplace and soft melodious music, his stare never breaking. 

He was gazing down upon her now, his light caramel coloured hair tousled about his forehead and his eyes pale, almost glowing amongst the dark ambiance. 

He wore white like he did that day in the dining room, the buttons loose around his neck revealing a peek of his smooth sun-kissed chest. His pants were typical black dress pants that were complimented by tall leather boots that Mollie noticed were typical of equestrians. 

He was gazing intensely at her, emanating a dominating aura as he looked down at her, a cold calculating look on his handsome features. 

For the first time ever, Mollie could see the blatant resemblance between the youngest Lyon and his father. 

Mollie shivered under his gaze despite the heat from the fireplace and could feel the thin fabric of the dress press against her. It stopped just barely over her thighs and she felt more exposed than ever. 

However Micah Lyon’s eyes never left her face. 

“Not a sweet little mouse,” he murmured suddenly as his stare intensified. 

Mollie’s jaw locked and her stare turned into something that resembled pure repulsion. 

He smiled when he saw this, dimples deepening, and Mollie wanted nothing more than to slap him. 

“You’re too capricious for a mouse.” 

He was musing in a soft voice, almost taunting her, daring her to make a move.

“More like a fawn.”

Mollie’s fists were clenched and her heart was pounding. 

“Skittling away when you see you a predator…yet shaky and unpredictable.”

He must have been referring to their previous encounter and Mollie stared back with deep enmity.

In some other world or distant reality she would have found him incredibly charming but given their current circumstances she wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around his smooth throat and press as hard and as deeply as she could manage. 

He noticed her discomfort as she jerked suddenly at the pain in her leg and his eyes flickered to her ankle.

“Poor fawn had a little accident on the roof,” he said in a mocking tone a smile still playing on the corners of his lips. 

“That’s quite an incredulous idea to galivant among the rooftops of my home….did you come up with that yourself fawn?”

Mollie was repulsed by the little nickname he had for her but she kept her mouth firmly shut.

“I find it most endearing that you truly believed you were concealed,” he said slowly brushing a cool finger against her cheek. 

“A pretty face like yours doesn’t go unnoticed…”

His voice trailed off and Mollie felt that prickly feeling begin to envelop her. 

_Had he known along?_

He carefully took the towel off of her forehead and gingerly brushed her damp stray curls back. His hands were cold, so cold.

“ _Like death,_ ” she thought as his eyes began to slowly scan the length of her frail body. She wondered how many lives those hands had taken and she suddenly felt sick. 

His hand had lingered down to the girl’s chest and was now cupping a breast though her thin white linen. As Mollie glanced up at him she saw that his eyes were fixed on hers.

With a sharp pinch he squeezed a nipple sending a jolt through Mollie’s body and a gasp escaped her lips. 

His face was impassive and Mollie was unsure of what was running through his mind. His hand had suddenly drifted back to her face and he slowly parted her lips with his fingers observing her closely. 

“Are you thirsty fawn?” he asked, false worry lacing his tone. 

Mollie didn’t respond as he slowly walked to the other side of the room to remove a large glass bottle from the cabinet, filled with a dark crimson liquid. 

“ _The blood of his victims,_ ” she thought bitterly as he returned to her side.

In one fluid motion he had poured the contents of the bottle into an ornate silver goblet and held it close to Mollie’s lips. 

Mollie pursed her lips in defiance and she saw a predatory smile spread across the prince’s features. 

Mollie had no doubt in her mind that drink was either laced with poison or some other gruesome liquid that would bring her to an untimely end. 

“Obstinate little thing I see,” he said with a chuckle. His eyes had suddenly darkened as Mollie glared at his face. 

“That’s quite alright…I do fancy myself a challenge now and again.” 

His breath had come out ragged and Mollie was sickened to see that he appeared slightly aroused from her stubbornness to comply.

With a force she didn’t see coming Micah Lyon compressed her cheeks painfully with his hand eliciting a groan of pain from the frail girl.

“It’s benign I promise,” he said with a smirk as if sensing her reason for not complying. 

“I wouldn’t dream of poisoning anyone…that would be too easy don’t you think?” 

Mollie suddenly jerked and stared at the prince. How much he knew about her was still up in the air but his comment had irked her beyond all of his other actions so far. 

As if proving his truth he brought the goblet to his lips and took a long sip of the dark liquid. The liquid stained his pink lips red and Mollie thought he looked more alien than ever amongst the dark ambiance and candlelit environment. 

Cautiously and painfully slow he lowered his head to hers and pressed his lips against her own. His expensive cologne enveloped Mollie and she could smell a strong hint of musk mixed with something more citrusy. It was an interesting combination but it was as alluring as ever. She would have enjoyed the scent, had it been on anyone else but the man standing before her. 

Mollie had no room to avert her head on the long sofa that was holding her captive. His lips were cold, like his hands, but they were surprisingly soft and smooth against her own. 

For the second time, he pressed her cheeks forcefully, forcing her mouth open, and she felt hot warm liquid enter her mouth as he emptied the contents of the drink from his lips to hers. 

She choked as the liquid trickled down her throat and spluttered as he forced her mouth closed, his eyes blank and his grip strong. She could see his muscles straining against his snow white shirt as he forced her to swallow all of what he had given her from his mouth. 

She noticed a glint shining from his chest and saw that like his father, he too wore a necklace that was engraved with the Lyon insignia, but unlike his father’s, his was gold and sparkled against his bronzed chest. 

“ _A branding,_ ” Mollie thought as Micah gazed thoughtfully down at her, his caramel waves tumbling against his now rosy cheeks. 

“A lion is always ten steps ahead of its prey,” he said quietly after Mollie had painfully swallowed. 

And with that he turned on his heel and left the room without a second glance behind him, the candlelight flickering from the passing air, only to become still once again, the wax melting down the cylindrical column like trails of salty tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music is Prelude in D flat major Op.28, No.15 (Raindrop) by Frédéric Chopin
> 
> Side Note: It's one of my all time favourite pieces to play on the piano!


	11. Sodium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie begins to understand the true extent of the Lyon Regime as well as the true nature of Micah Lyon.

It had been a little over two weeks since Mollie’s last encounter with Micah Lyon and she prayed it would be her last.

Mollie had slowly regained her strength with the help of the kind old servant lady who had been nursing her back to health within the dark recesses of the Lyon’s Questershire Manor. She was curt but gentle with Mollie and the girl could tell from the old woman’s expression that she was instructed to be so. Her features expressed one of great confliction, especially when Mollie would ask about her whereabouts. 

Mollie watched her now as the old woman brought a delicate glass bowl to her lips so Mollie could drink the hot broth inside. 

“When can I leave?” she asked quietly. 

The woman dropped her gaze and removed the bowl from Mollie’s lips. 

“When Master Lyon permits it.”

Mollie’s heart sank when she heard this. She had asked this same question everyday since she first opened her eyes and the answer had remained unchanged. 

“But it has been weeks!”

Her anxiety had steadily increased during her stay at the mansion and she was dangerously close to a breakdown. She feared the prince may leave her here forever and Mollie couldn’t even begin to fathom what that kind of future would have in store for her. 

“Miss me already?” 

The soft low voice that Mollie had chosen to forgotten sounded through the room and she whipped her head towards the entrance to the chambers. 

The old woman beside her quickly leaped to her feet and curtseyed murmuring her greetings. 

“I’ll take it from here Esperanza,” he said brusquely with a wave of his hand, prompting the older woman to shuffle away quickly. 

The door closed with a sharp clang that echoed throughout the cold room. 

Micah Lyon smirked as he approached Mollie who could now support herself on the hard sofa. 

His eyes flitted over her body briefly before he returned his gaze back to her eyes.

“You’re almost as good as new.” 

He was dressed rather casually in comparison to how Mollie usually saw him. 

He wore a simple white dress shirt with black pants and Mollie could see his cheeks were rather flushed. It appeared as if he had engaged in some recent exertion only moments before. 

Her ankle still ached and a constant throb still echoed at the back of her head but she was in much better condition than she was weeks ago. 

“Are you ready to speak fawn?” 

His eyes were bright and excited, giving off a luminosity of their own, and Mollie could tell he had something to share. 

She stared him down ignoring his last question.

“Still refusing to speak?” 

He chuckled lowly at this and regarded her with amusement.

Mollie hadn’t expected it, but in a flash he leaned his hand and all of the weight of himself onto her bad leg and she cried out in pain as he pressed down harder, his eyes not showing even the slightest hint of remorse.

“Your name?”

Mollie had felt the pain propagate from her leg to her head and silent tears began to fall from the brim of her eyes.

In a flash Micah removed a gold trimmed dagger from his side pocket and proceeded to point the jagged edge towards Mollie’s neat and still fragile stitches. She had a small but deep laceration where her ankle had met the concrete but it had begun to heal quite well over time. 

She glanced up in horror at the prince who had the dagger pressing soft enough into her bruised flesh to not elicit accumulated blood flow, yet hard enough to threaten penetration. 

“Mollie,” she gasped as the dagger pressed harder ever so slightly. “Mollie Mayeson.” 

He tilted his head to the side observing her closely then slowly began to pull out her status card from his front pocket. 

_He was just messing with her._

He smiled as he read it his eyes flickering back to hers. Mollie dreaded to think what would have happened had she decided not to tell him the truth. 

“Mollie Mae,” he said lovingly. 

She watched him remove the dagger from her ankle and walk toward the fireplace at the front of the room. Within minutes he had a fire blazing and casually tossed her status card into the burning logs, the flames curling around her only way of escaping. 

“You won’t be needing this anymore.” 

She kept her face blank despite the screaming chasm within her as Micah turned to take in her expression. She wouldn’t let him see how much that affected her. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up shall we?” 

As if she were made of glass, the prince effortlessly lifted her into his arms and together they walked out of the room and into a dark torch lit corridor.

Mollie was confused at his gentle touch considering how he almost threatened to gauge her wound with a dagger only moments before. His transient moods were alarming and Mollie was instantly reminded of her mother. 

Mollie was unsure how much time had elapsed since she had arrived, but she knew her mother would know something was up when Mollie didn’t return.

Mollie’s eyes wandered as his cologne engulfed her and her cheek inadvertently pressed against the small expanse of exposed skin on his chest.

Mollie felt him stiffen and didn’t fail to notice how he held her a little farther away after their brief skin on skin contact. 

They appeared to be underground and Mollie was shocked to see corridor upon corridor pass her by as the prince expertly navigated his way around the maze-like compound that surrounded them. 

Servant upon servant passed them by and Mollie didn’t fail to notice how each one bowed deeply when Micah passed them by. They didn’t seem confused or concerned that the prince was carrying a small injured girl in his arms and Mollie was beginning to understand that the events that occurred within the Lyon residence were somewhat pervasive and a mutual silent understanding extended to all of those involved. 

They approached a large mosaic composed door at the end of the corridor and Mollie realized that they had entered a neat, tile encased facility equipped with a porcelain white bathtub in the centre of the room and a series of jets lining the walls. Everything was white and spotless and it made Mollie’s skin prickle with unease.

Micah closed the door sharply behind them, then placed Mollie carefully into the porcelain tub. 

Mollie began to protest as he slowly removed her dress but quieted at the brief warning squeeze he gave her wrist as he quickly disposed of the light linen. 

Mollie quickly brought her thick curls over her shoulders to conceal her exposed breasts. She had lost so much weight since she first arrived and she had noticed that her breasts seemed smaller and less plump than they usually were. 

Micah hadn’t said a word since they arrived but his eyes were trained on her as he opened the taps and let the hot water fill the massive tub. 

Mollie hadn’t moved from her position as the water began to creep its way up her chest and towards her chin. She wasn’t sure what was infused within the water but the sweet smell of English pear and freesia filled her nostrils and the steam was obscuring her vision of everything around her, except the man standing above her. 

Carefully, he rolled up his sleeves and gently began to rub a fresh smelling soap against Mollie’s smooth back. His face remained impassive and cold, but his hands were tender and soft as they circled around her back, her now wet hair sticking to the front of her chest. 

She felt something hard and sharp press against her back as he made his rounds along her body with his hands and she noticed he wore a large silver ring on the middle finger of his right hand. 

Mollie’s breathing was coming out in ragged breaths and she felt goose bumps form along her chest and arms. 

When he had finished, he gently pressed her backwards against the cool tub and pulled her wet heavy hair behind her. 

Mollie closed her eyes tightly as Micah's hands inched along her body to rub soap along her chest, taking extra time to massage her breasts. His thumbs rippled over her areolas and Mollie squirmed, disturbing the still water surrounding her. He then used his fingers to sharply pull each nipple, firm and pointed from the chilly air and she shuddered involuntarily. As he pulled each peak Mollie opened her eyes and a low moan escaped her throat. 

She looked down briefly and saw that the silver ring on his finger was engraved with 3 letters. 

_M. Z. L._

_His initials._

His hands ventured lower beneath the misty water, enveloping her torso and kneading her lower belly, his skin a pale contrast against her own. 

In spite of her disgust at the man above her she couldn't help but sigh in pleasure as he loosened the knots in her muscles and the tension in her bones.

Mollie noticed how elegantly and gracefully the prince always seemed to carry himself out and wondered if his regal demeanour was due to nature or nurture. There was something painfully aristocratic about his features and the way he conducted himself and Mollie couldn’t help but feel uneasy at how _unnatural_ it was.

His hands were like those of a marble statue. Pale, elegant, and as smooth as a sheen of ice.

His hands slowly began to creep over her thighs and part her long legs in an attempt to expose her closed rosebud that lay concealed and untouched beneath the liquid surface. Mollie began to breathe heavily as his fingers brushed her opening and her fingers and toes began to curl at the sudden sensation. 

With skilful dexterity he parted her lower lips and inserted a single finger into her warm wet centre. She writhed sending water splashing over the rim and attempted to close her legs, the sudden foreign penetration igniting a flame in her belly and sending sparks to her fingers and toes. 

Her untouched core was tender and smooth and the single finger within her was enough to make her feel full. 

Her constant writhing had splashed the prince with water and his shirt was filled with darkened water spots. Mollie noticed he looked rather perplexed and she feared she may have angered him somehow. 

Quite abruptly he pulled his fingers away from her core and proceeded to swiftly drain the tub. The feeling had left her breathless and unsatisfied and she suddenly had a foreign urge to use her own fingers to finish herself off. 

As he turned around to grab a towel, Mollie had to subdue the wild id in her psychological conscience that was telling her to make a run for it. However Mollie suspected that was exactly what he expected her to do. 

Before she could make up her mind, Micah turned around and began to gingerly dry Mollie’s damp face. 

“You’ve never been with a man before.” 

His voice was low and muted and it came out as more of a statement than a question. 

Mollie glanced up at him and she noticed his usual playful smirk was replaced with a look of cold calculation. It sent a jolt of fear through her and her eyes flickered to the dagger he kept in his belt pocket. 

“I have,” she said softly meeting his gaze. “I have been with a man before.” 

Her voice was husky and ragged from weeks of being unused, but she saw the interest flicker in his gaze as he heard her speak. 

He suddenly leaned over her in the tub, closing her in, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the porcelain edges of the tub with immense strength. 

He was close enough that she could feel his breath wash over her face, but she could tell he was being careful not to unintentionally touch her again. 

His eyes looked her up and down, and Mollie could finally see how clear they really were. It was as if she was staring into a canopy of green and she blinked several times to clear her head of the mesmerizing stare. She had truly never seen eyes so clear and vivid and she wondered where he had gotten such a rare trait. She couldn’t remember how the late queen had looked but she was pretty sure her eyes _weren’t_ green. 

Micah had narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as she stared up at him looming over her. 

“Liar.” 

Without waiting for a response he pulled her to her feet and lifted her in his arms once again, her damp body wrapped in a fluffy towel as he strode out of the bright room.

***

When they returned to the basement chambers, he slowly eased her to her feet and Mollie quickly clutched the white towel to her chest in an effort to cover herself as best as she could, shooting him a withering glare. 

He ignored her as he opened a chest of drawers at the back of the room and began to pull out an exquisite blood red dress woven with a pearl stitched collar and glittering sequins lining the length. It was short and somewhat flared below the waist. It looked rather short for Mollie but she sat still and stiff along the leather sofa as he walked toward her once again, the dress in his arms. It was a highly unusual outfit to choose for someone of her age but she kept silent. 

Young adolescents who had not yet reached puberty generally wore dresses that exposed their legs, but women who had reached puberty generally tended to wear fuller length attire. It was a highly idiosyncratic belief within their society but people abided by it. It was one of many mores within the Lyon regime and failure to acquiesce were met with harsh inimical opposition from a higher authority. 

As if she were a child, the prince brought her arms up and carefully slipped the dress onto her skinny frame, taking extra care to button up the delicate clasps along the back. 

The dress was short, extremely short, and seemed to have been designed to purposefully expose a woman’s legs. 

It reached her mid-thigh and Mollie felt a little too exposed in it. 

Despite the short length it covered everything above her quite extensively with its long lace sleeves and high collar. It was stiff, thick and scratchy especially along the sleeves and Mollie had never worn something so expensive and pretentious in her life. 

He turned her around to face him as he took it all in. 

“You look lovely in red,” he said quietly as his hands ventured downwards to wrap around her small waist. 

She didn’t answer and he lowered his head to plant a small tender kiss on her neck below her ear. His hands moved upwards along the length of her body and he proceeded to fist a handful of her dark hair that fell in waves behind her. 

Carefully he parted her hair to the left side bringing her heavy waves forward and proceeding to admire her new look. 

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered as he gazed into her eyes, a look of something resembling deep ardour present within them. 

Her question was vague but the emotion in her voice and the way her arms trembled when she questioned him signified that it carried a lot more weight.

It was a question of _why_. _Why_ was he keeping her here? _Why_ had he not killed her yet?

His gaze never faltered as his lips curved into a dark smile. 

“Because you are my escort tonight,” he explained, his tone matter of fact. 

Mollie looked blankly at him.

“Thus you will dress accordingly.” 

“I don’t understand,” she whispered as he reached briefly behind her and opened a dark tube of ruby red lipstick. 

He applied the colour to her lips skilfully and assuredly, his eyes trained on her lips and his fingers firm. His thick lashes fluttered as he carefully applied the dark lipstick tracing the outline of her lips and filling them in with thin light strokes. 

He gave her a dazzling smile when he finished. 

“Press your lips together,” he instructed her quietly.

Out of fear, Mollie acquiesced. She didn’t forget about the sharp dagger loosely attached to his belt and she couldn’t help but glance at it every few minutes. 

“Stunning,” he said as he took a step back and critiqued her fully.

His light eyes ran the entire length of her body resting for more time than she would have liked on her breasts. 

“In response to your last question, we are dining tonight, and you Mollie Mae are our guest of honour.”


	12. Magnésium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is served and Mollie gets a special seat at the head table.

Micah had left the room soon after he had prepared her for dinner and told her he’d return momentarily. 

He had also told her to call him Master Lyon in his and anyone else’s presence from now on, just like the rest of the staff who worked for the Lyons.

As soon as he left Mollie jumped to her feet and began to search the room. 

Her ankle still hurt and she had to be careful not to put too much weight on it or accidentally bump it against something. She needed to be at her best if she hoped to escape from captivity. 

Of course the door had locked behind the prince but she continued to search through the entire room including the large wardrobe at the front of the room and the bedside tables that lined the long black sofa that had become her permanent residence for the past few weeks. 

For the first time Mollie noticed there was no bed in the room, despite it being comprised of all of the usual accessories a bedroom contains.

 _“They probably don’t even last the night,"_ she thought as she regarded the large room before her. She wondered how many souls had come and passed within the Questershire manor and she shuddered as she flipped through rows and rows of expensive women’s silks through the wardrobe and drawers. 

She even wondered which young woman like herself had worn the very dress that lay upon her body now. 

Micah Lyon appeared swiftly and silently, and had Mollie not kept her eyes trained on the entrance she would never have known he was there.

She was beginning to understand the subtle qualities of the youngest prince, or so she hoped, and she realized that every action that succeeded him was implemented with tremendous thought and purpose. 

There was a reason he had healed her, a reason he was keeping her alive and Mollie had a gut wrenching premonition of why this was so. 

“Come closer fawn.” 

He stood tall and elegant in his silver woven midnight blue cloak that Mollie was beginning to suspect was a staple constituent of his formal attire. His caramel hair was combed and meticulously parted like his father, to accentuate his elegant features. Despite his tall stance and authoritative aura, the natural blush in his sun kissed cheeks gave to him an air of false boyish innocence. 

Mollie was unsure of his age and she wouldn’t dare to ask, but he didn’t appear much older than herself. However the way he conducted himself in the presence of his royal staff and his father suggested he appeared much older than he looked. 

He frowned when she approached him.

Mollie swallowed the dull ache of hunger in her belly and the throbbing in her ankle and took a stance by the prince’s side, sulking at her lack of autonomy. 

Despite her height he still towered over her and he made a note of tiling his head downwards when addressing her. 

“Scowling doesn’t compliment your features Mollie Mae,” he said sharply raising Mollie’s nerves. 

“And let me assure you, my family does not take well to rude guests. It would be in your best interest to remain polite and civil.” 

His eyes were cold as he spoke to her and she nodded diligently slipping her balled up fists behind her back and out of the prince’s view.

“If you do address myself, or anyone at the table in a manner they don’t deem fit, there will be consequences.” 

His tone never fluctuated as he directed the looming threat at Mollie and she kept her eyes down as he slipped his arm in hers and began to lead her out of the basement chambers of the mansion.

***  
Mollie felt as if she were walking to her own execution as she and the prince finally made their way towards familiar marble flooring and high ceilings. 

She hadn’t seen the sun in weeks and she nearly cried at the afternoon rays streaming in through the French glass windows of the residence. 

Micah was swift and speedy as he led her to the dining room and his pace and long strides were making her ankle throb dully at the sudden drastic increase in use.

He stopped outside a dark, heavy, elaborately carved door and paused for a brief moment. Mollie looked up at him in confusion as his gaze seemed to penetrate through the closed doors. 

“One last thing,” he said, his pink lips turned downwards at the sides.

“Do _not_ speak unless spoken to.” 

She remained quiet for a moment, childishly turning her head away as if to attempt to separate herself from the closeness of their bodies. 

If there was one thing Mollie couldn’t stand it was having a finger pointed at her face.

In seconds he grabbed her cheeks forcefully in his hand and jerked her head upwards so her wide brown eyes met his pale green orbs.

That was a poor mistake on her part and tears prickled on the edge of her eyes as his fingers dug painfully into the sides of her cheeks. 

“Did I make myself clear Mollie?”

He had _never_ used her name so bluntly before and she felt her stomach flop as he stared at her, carefully gauging her reaction. 

“Y-Yes,” she stammered as his gaze remained placid and unchanged despite the growing pressure from his fingers. 

His fingers dug harder and the tears began to fall onto her cheeks. She quickly remembered her mistake and tried her best to placate the unhinged man standing before her. 

“Yes Master Lyon.” 

Immediately his grip loosened and his hand curled loosely along her cheek in a fake parody of affection. He thumbed her stray tears away and proceeded to free her trembling bottom lip from her top teeth. 

Little did he know they were trembling in response to the hate boiling up inside of her. 

His eyes remained pools of blank impassiveness and abruptly he turned forward towards the door and steered her inside. 

The first thing Mollie felt was a deep arctic chill that seeped into her bones and froze her insides solid.

The room was definitely a few degrees colder than the foyer and immediately Mollie felt goosebumps erupt along her long exposed legs. She also felt a dozen eyes land on her and tried to keep her breathing regular as murmurs of respectful greetings circulated around the room from all members of the table to welcome their youngest prince. 

The table was lavishly decorated as usual but Mollie avoided eye contact with everyone seated at the table. 

With a curt nod of acknowledgment to his guests, Micah led her towards the two vacant chairs at the end of the table. 

Mollie was plopped down harshly by the prince as if she were cargo being loaded onto a bustling conveyor belt, and her back hit the wooden chair hard. She scowled as Micah lowered himself gracefully into his chair his cloak billowing around him and a painful feeling of envy engulfed her. His elegance was truly unparalleled. 

Micah seemed cold and as distant as ever when the dinner officially began, barely acknowledging Mollie beside him as he reached for a goblet and began to pour himself a glass of red wine. The smell of fresh baked bread and an array of exotic spices began to filter slowly into the room and Mollie’s stomach rumbled at the pleasant odours. Although an incredulous number of fine dishes lined the table, concealing the red tablecloth that lay underneath, Mollie had enough sense to keep her hands to herself and her gaze down.

Mollie’s ears perked up at the conversation and she quickly allowed herself to glance up along the table. She noticed immediately that the seat at the head of the table was absent and she wondered where Hartley Lyon could be. She had assumed he would be here… but then again, she didn’t think her presence was of _that_ much importance, especially to someone of his status.

It was full of men and Mollie recognized the blond one named Logan seated beside the head of the table. She remembered him clearly from her previous experience in this room and she felt ill. She wondered if all of the men at this table were Lyons or family members of the Lyons, as she had never seen any of them within the press or media growing up. 

The conversation had transitioned into agriculture and most of what was being said was foreign to Mollie. Nonetheless she kept her ears perked and her eyes sharp as she stole another glance upwards.

Her eyes were met with dark brown irises that drew her into its bottomless depths and left her feeling empty and cold. James Lyon was seated directly across from her and she realized with a sickening lurch that he had been observing her the entire time. 

His eyes narrowed as she looked at him and she frightfully dropped her gaze. Mollie had felt fear since she had arrived at the Lyon residence, but no one elicited a more primal flight or fight response within her than James Lyon. 

Her mother would often say that some people were born bad eggs while others were cracked along the way by a higher power who abused their privilege of cultivation.

Mollie had never met the eldest prince but she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that he was simply a bad egg. 

“Come now Micah,” a deep and slurred voice called out from the opposite end of the table. “Since when did you start keeping little pets?” 

Mollie could feel the chill in the air as the voices began to quiet. She could feel James’ and a multitude of other eyes flicker over to her and Micah but she kept her gaze down like the docile, obedient slave the prince warned her to be. 

“He’s becoming a real man now,” another voice called out from the end of the table. An echo of laughter ensued yet Micah remained calm and unperturbed beside Mollie, swirling the bloody wine in his goblet and studiously ignoring the conversation at the end of the table. 

“Was she a good fuck?” a different voice called out from the end of the table. 

Mollie felt her stomach drop to the floor and what little hunger she did feel instantly dissipated. She didn’t fail to notice how the prince’s knuckles tightened after the question that was thrown at him from across the room. 

In spite of his cool stance beside her he smiled and turned his head slightly to the right to address the man on the other side of the room.

“What happens in a man’s chambers stays in a man’s chambers wouldn’t you agree?” 

The men chuckled as Micah elegantly brought his goblet to his lips and sipped his wine. Mollie noticed that the grip on his glass never loosened despite the change in conversation. 

“Spoken like a true gentleman baby brother.”

The laughter once again died down and the aura of uneasiness in the room slowly began its ascent. 

Mollie had suspected the voice of the eldest Lyon to sound as deep and as snakelike as his fathers and she was certainly not disappointed. 

“Enlighten us,” James continued with a wave of his hand. Mollie noticed he too wore a ring, several rings, on his fingers and she squirmed in her seat in spite of herself.

“Where did you find such a…peculiar little thing?” he mused turning his dark gaze towards Mollie. “I would have certainly recognized it from my shipment.” 

For the first time that night Micah turned his steely gaze toward her and regarded her with something that resembled cool appraisal. 

“She is quite peculiar isn’t she?” He said, his tone somewhat breathless.

The table murmured in agreement and Mollie suddenly felt bare and defenceless among the many men that surrounded her in the chilly room. 

Micah brought his cold hand toward her cheek and proceeded to tuck her dark curls behind her ear. The liquid green in his eyes solidified ever so slightly and Mollie couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of comfort at the casual gesture.

 _“No,”_ she thought as he turned his gaze back to the table. _“He IS the enemy.”_ What was she even thinking? Her prolonged state of hunger and thirst must have been affecting her mental cognition. 

The dinner dragged on and on and Mollie was feeling tired and groggy from lack of food and the prolonged pain in her ankle. It was a torturous feeling to be present in a room full of fine dishes and delicacies and be forbidden from indulging in any of it. Although the pleasant displays before her assaulted her senses and sent her tongue salivating, she was forced to swallow her saliva and appear unaffected. 

On top of that, she was on edge each time a new conversation erupted and half expected some sick display of vulgarity to occur and interrupt the proceedings of the night. She still remembered the flowing stream of milk that fell in rivulets down the pale slave’s chest as she willingly offered herself to the table full of men…. 

“Is this all there is?” the man named Logan called out as the last few servants removed the untouched food from the table. 

“Patience Logan,” another man called out. “These things take time.”

The man named Logan looked frustrated and Mollie wondered what could possibly cause the grown man to throw such a tantrum.

Mollie was too nervous to make eye contact with anyone and she could still feel the hair tingling eyes of James Lyon on her every time she moved even the slightest inch. 

“He used to be lactose-intolerant, have pity on him.” 

Mollie was surprised to hear the voice come from the middle Lyon who sat casually next to his older brother and another girl Mollie hadn’t noticed before. Mollie assumed she must be another one of their female properties, but she did feel a strange sense of comfort knowing there was another female in the room besides her.

The room erupted in a series of laughter and Mollie noticed the man named Logan shoot Rowan Lyon a murderous glare.

“At least I take pleasure from the luxuries bestowed upon me from the _female_ body.” 

Rowan Lyon smiled at this and proceeded to raise his goblet in the air. If Mollie hadn’t know any better, she would have assumed the blond man was trying to insult the middle Lyon based on his stance and accusatory tone. 

“We each have our own tastes, some slightly more elevated than others.”

Logan openly glared at Rowan who unabashedly used his fingers to slip 3 large grapes off the table into his mouth. 

Mollie also noticed how, ever so fleetingly, Micah cracked a smile before his face returned to one of utter blankness. 

Logan suddenly laughed, a high pitched, eerie and gut wrenching sound that Mollie wished would end at once. 

“Oh Rowan, you certainly do know how to please a man,” he continued between sharp bursts of breathless chuckles. 

“My cock is simply straining at the thought.” 

Voices began to overtake the voice of the ostentatious blond man who had begun to furiously down the drink in his right hand. 

Mollie wanted nothing more than to disappear from the revolting display before her and never return.

As if on cue, Logan’s blue eyes flickered towards Mollie and a primal and instinctual response welled up inside the young girl as the man leered at her, his expression one of conspicuous arousal. It was as if he hadn’t noticed her presence at the table till now.

“Ah yes,” he sighed, his eyes pinned on Mollie.

“My cock is simply _straining_ at the thought.”


	13. Aluminium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie pushes her limits and realizes there's more to the prince than meets the eye.

Mollie had despised him when she first laid eyes on the man and her feelings toward Logan had only intensified since then. 

There was something animalistic about him that tipped Mollie over the edge. 

“I have a brilliant idea,” he said suddenly his blue eyes blazing with delight. 

“Xi, my dear, show our newest guest how it’s done.” 

Mollie was bewildered as the people at the table began to stir excitedly in their seats. Dread filled her stomach when she saw that familiar menacing crooked smile spread across James Lyon’s face. 

_This can’t be good._

Micah said nothing as the young girl beside Rowan began to walk towards Mollie, the thin pale pink wrap on her body doing little to contain her assets. 

Logan had leaned across the table at this point, his gaze locked on Mollie and the girl beside her. 

The girl was petite and extremely beautiful with hair so silver it glinted in the candlelit room. Her skin was pale and complimented by rosy pink cheeks. She looked like a porcelain doll and Mollie stared up at her as she placed a gentle snow white hand on her shoulder. 

“What are you waiting for?” James breathed. His dark eyes fixed on the blonde woman beside Mollie. “Put on your best show.”

On cue, the blonde girl unzipped her pale pink slip in one fluid motion and yanked Mollie’s head toward her own. 

Mollie gasped as the woman’s hot mouth enveloped her own. Mollie was caught unaware and she squirmed as the girl snaked her hands along Mollie’s neck. Mollie felt the girls warm tongue enter her mouth to entwine with her own and she groaned as the girl proceeded to squeeze her clothed breasts. 

Mollie could hear the distant sound of laughter behind her and abruptly the girl let her go with a giggle. 

The girls hand ventured towards Mollie’s exposed thighs to the space between her legs. Micah had not provided her with panties and the girl sighed in Mollie’s ears as her fingers brushed her opening. Quick as a wink she removed her fingers and raised them high in the air so the entire table could see the juices leaking down her fingers above from Mollie’s mortified face. 

Mollie was breathless and humiliated as she looked upwards at the dozens of eyes on her. 

James Lyon looked pleased, while Rowan looked on between her and the girl in disgust at the display that had just taken place. 

She was still catching her breath and as she turned towards Micah she noted his locked jaw and irritated expression. He certainly didn’t look pleased and she felt uneasiness spread through her.

“You can tell a lot about a person from their first kiss,” James said quietly. Mollie was surprised to see that his eyes were locked on Micah when he said this and she shivered. 

The girl had condescendingly brushed Mollie’s cheek then proceeded to shoot Micah a dazzling smile. He didn’t even acknowledge her as he stared down his older brother, a look of blank and utter calmness on his fine features. The girl looked put out as she slipped back into her dress and padded back to her seat, disappointment flooding her face. Mollie felt a pang of satisfaction at this but kept her gaze locked on her hands. 

“Fuck!” 

She shivered as she heard the breathless moan from Logan across the table and she felt ready to puke. She knew what he was doing underneath the table after her little display with the blonde and the disgust was hard to conceal on her face. 

“We’re going.” 

Micah’s voice was colder than snow and Mollie immediately jumped to her feet. 

Without a second glance he gripped her arm, harder than she found comfortable and she was pulled roughly out of the room. She could feel the eyes of the eldest Lyon burning a whole into her back as she exited and she all but fled the room. 

Micah hadn’t stopped pulling her until they had burst into a quaint parlour after several twists and turns. Even after several weeks at the manor, Mollie was still as lost as ever. 

The door slammed shut behind them and Micah finally let her go taking several strides forward to lean against the dark granite table facing a wide window. The window held the view of a large and treacherous cliff in the distance and something about the angle from her perspective made Mollie feel a surge of trepidation. 

Micah’s shoulders were heaving with heavy breaths but his back was to her and she couldn’t deduce his expression. 

As she glanced around the room she caught sight of her reflection in a round scallop trimmed mirror against the wall. She froze when she saw herself. 

Her dark tresses were teased and voluminous around her shoulders and her cheeks were pink with exertion or perhaps residual embarrassment. Her dress had creases along the bottom and she could see glistening smears of vaginal juices along her thighs. Her lipstick had smeared across her lips giving her a slightly hysterical appearance and she couldn’t help but look at herself with utter repulsion and despair. 

_No different from a common prostitute._

Her mother’s face suddenly appeared before her in the mirror and she averted her gaze quickly. She was unable to separate herself from the entity that appeared in her mother’s form and she felt physically ill. 

“Master Lyon?”

Her voice sounded small even to her and she cringed as her voice echoed through the silent room. 

Her arms were crossed around her body to conserve heat in the chilly room and Micah hadn’t moved an inch since they entered. 

He slowly turned around when she spoke, his face blank and his posture stiff.

“I have to pee,” she lied fiddling with the hem of her dress. In reality she felt miserable and she needed time alone. Away from the person who had caused her unimaginable public humiliation and shame. 

He seemed to look through her for a moment before he finally acknowledged her and Mollie wondered what...or _who_ he was seeing. He didn’t seem at all psychologically present. 

“The door on the left,” he said emotionlessly before turning back around to lean over the table, his gaze fixed on the setting sun outside. 

Mollie shuffled quickly to the door and made a move to close it before the prince intervened. 

“Leave it open.” 

Mollie sighed in annoyance and she noticed Micah turn his head ever so slightly at the sound.

Thankfully the lavatory was out of view of the prince and Mollie used what little time she had to clean herself up. She held her hands to her mouth and sobbed silently sinking to her knees.

*** 

A sharp knock at the door made her jump and she noticed Micah Lyon standing in the doorway watching her as she wiped her thighs clean of the offensive juices that had leaked down her legs. 

Silently he entered and Mollie recoiled taking a step back. He paused when she did so and looked her in the eye. 

Mollie wasn’t quite sure what came over her, but in that moment she saw an opportunity she couldn’t miss and she went for it. 

As if to step closer to Micah she lunged for his torso knocking him off balance for a moment and managed to free the dagger from his belt. 

His breath released in a sharp huff of surprise and she thrust her hands outward to block him from any further advances.

Although she had surprised him, his reflexes were much stronger than she anticipated and his other hand grasped her wrist holding the dagger in an iron grip before she could retract her arm. 

Quickly she twisted herself counter clockwise and managed to free her right hand and deliver a single sharp slap across the prince’s cheek. 

His head jerked sideways from the slap and Mollie froze when she realized what she had done.

Tantalizingly slow, the prince brought his head back, his wavy hair coming loose from the momentum of her palm, and his eyes blazing like the pitted depths of Hades lair. 

She had lost her hold on the dagger in their scuffle and she looked down in terror to see the prince clutching the blade from the blade’s end, his fists flexed in suppressed anger, and the edge cutting into his flesh like butter as blood dripped down his hand. 

“You have quite a nerve to lay your filthy hands on royal blood,” he seethed proceeding to take his bloody hand and clutch it around her neck. 

Had his grip _not_ been so tight maybe she would have been able to scream. 

She could only see the fire blazing in his eyes as his grip began to tighten. She spluttered and coughed as she tried to move but he had her enclosed within the small space. 

_This is it. This is how he’ll end me._

As she squeezed her eyes tight and her circulation began to cut off she realized that he had wrapped something thin and cold around her neck and she opened her eyes in fear, fresh tears falling down her cheeks. 

He had removed his hand from her neck and as she looked down she could see the smears of his blood all along her neck and shoulders. 

He moved in closer to her and she stilled. She knew she had pushed it and she knew that at this moment, he _did_ hold all the power.

Micah was stiff and shaking almost imperceptibly, and his expression was one of absolute lividity.

“If you’re going to act like a feral uncultured streetwhore, then I’ll treat you like a feral uncultured streetwhore.” 

His voice was a stark contrast from his usual playful lilt and for the first time she did regard the prince with raw primal fear. 

With a jerk Mollie was brought forward harshly onto her knees and half dragged as Micah pulled on her neck hard with the thin wire. The wire bit into her flesh to create more warm droplets of crimson to mix with the dried blood already on her neck. 

His pace was relentless and the more she screamed and cried the harder he pulled. Mollie wondered if he was simply parading the mansion back and forth to prolong her pain and humiliation or if he really was leading her somewhere. 

“Please, Master Lyon,” she cried as her knees dragged across more hard stone and her legs left a trail of blood against the white marble floors. 

He didn’t even glance back at her as he dragged her up a flight of stairs her nails digging into the floorboards as he walked on elegantly and completely undisturbed.

The pain went on and on and Mollie’s knees were screaming in protest as she clawed at the thin material around her neck. 

He stopped suddenly pushing open a smooth heavy arched doorway and Mollie staggered inside, her knees bleeding, her heart pounding, and her eyes streaming. Her knees met soft carpet and she huddled against herself crying quietly. 

The door closed with a sharp sound and as Mollie looked around, she realized they were in a grand chamber with walls the colour of the deep sea and carpets the colour of darkened slate. 

Everything felt dark and cold, and like most of the rooms in the manor, there were no windows.  
She had always believed the lack of windows was a precaution to keep people out but the longer she stayed at the Questershire manor the more she realized it was a precaution to keep people _in._

Mollie couldn’t help but sob at her predicament. 

_What did I ever do to deserve this?_

She had been good. She had never treated anyone wrong, she had never stolen, she had never killed, she had looked after her only living relative under the most dire of circumstances.

Yet life still decided that she didn’t deserve anything more than the status of a slave and the title of a whore. 

Micah began to walk toward Mollie slowly, his glistening dark boots catching the candlelight as he stood in front of her, his knees in line with her eyes. 

The opulent dress he had chosen for Mollie was ruined due to his harsh treatment, the beads having fallen off and the intricately woven silks in unwoven tatters. The bottom was stained with blood like the rest of Mollie’s skin. 

Mollie was breathing heavily through her nose, trying her best so hold in her sobs as the prince slowly lowered himself down until he was crouching in front of her. 

With a snap he released the choke hold around her neck and she gulped down as much air as she could muster.

He watched her as she eventually regulated her breathing, one hand clutched around her throat where Mollie could feel a thin clean cut around her neck.

“You just don’t know when to draw the line do you?” He murmured. His eyes were blank and glimmering in the candlelit room. 

“Did you seriously think you would be able to disarm me?”

His tone was incredulous and he was staring her down as if Mollie were the one who were completely out of her mind.

It was as if this entire situation was comical to him. 

“I’ve been sparring since I was three years old fawn,” he said quietly his face in level with Mollie’s. 

_Sparring?_

“You’re little trick down there was…compelling.” 

He was looking at her thoughtfully.

“Don’t get me wrong Mollie Mae, I like being kept on my guard. It keeps things interesting.” 

He was musing and Mollie was staring at him, inflicting as much hatred in her stare as she could muster. He obviously didn’t care as he continued looking at her in an adoring manner.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t punish you for overstepping your boundaries.” 

His voice was quiet despite the looming threat in his tone. 

He reached out with his hand, and wiped her smudged lipstick from her bottom lip and Mollie resisted the urge to bite down on his fingers. 

He then gracefully stood up and brushed his cloak behind him.

“I think you fit in well here Mollie Mae,” Micah said with a smirk looking down at her. “You’re just full of surprises.” 

His tone was somewhat mocking but Mollie was too injured and fatigued to respond. 

“Esperanza will come see to you.” 

As he turned for the door he paused with his hand on the handle. His back was turned to her so that his expensive silver woven cloak was on full display. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” he said quietly, his back facing her. “Despite what you may think.”

Mollie clenched her teeth and continued glaring at him from behind. 

_Bullshit._

“So be more wise with your decisions next time you implement them.” 

With a sharp snap the door closed and Mollie was left in the chambers of her enemy, simply itching for a way to retaliate. 

***

Mollie wasn’t a fan of her new location but it was much better than dark basement chambers that she previously called her temporary residence. 

Her new place had an actual four poster bed and a connecting lavatory equipped with the most expensive soaps and toiletries Mollie had ever seen. 

Micah had told her that he expected her to take care of herself and Mollie wondered if he had ever taken anyone to the upstairs quarters before. 

She hadn’t seen any of the girls from the basement since her first day and Mollie hoped that young Zeta was okay. The young girl had made a huge impression on Mollie and she wanted to see her again.

On a better note, her wounds were slowly healing and she was now able to run following her ankle injury.

Mollie had Esperanza to thank for that.

Mollie quickly figured out that the prince was fond of the servant taking care of her. 

He didn’t ignore her like he did the other servants and he always addressed the older woman head on, which was against the protocol of a royal servant relationship.

Mollie didn’t agree with a lot of what the woman stood for but she understood her predicament. Esperanza seemed taken aback when she first saw Mollie in the room with the prince but she quickly recovered and completed her tasks. 

The prince hadn’t touched Mollie since he had physically dragged her across the floors of the manor but he came in to check on her everyday, even if it was only for a brief moment. He didn’t speak, and his expression was always blank. 

Mollie couldn’t help but feel the prince was planning something, something sinister and she felt as if she were living on borrowed time. 

He didn’t invite her for dinner with his family again nor did he mention them in her presence. 

Mollie grew desperately lonely as the days passed by and she would often talk to Esperanza who was the only other soul she ever saw apart from occasional surveillance from Micah. 

The older woman would ignore her when she asked questions so Mollie had resorted to speaking to her.

She would tell the woman about the bakery, about her grandparents, and about her life before they passed. 

Mollie was careful to leave out personal details including her feelings and attitudes as she didn’t doubt the woman relayed information to Micah. 

But Mollie knew if she continued her stance of silence, the cabin fever would engulf her and she would slowly lose her sanity with each passing day. 

It was a particularly late time in the evening when Esperanza walked in carrying in a simple but elegant black gown in her arms for Mollie to wear. 

Mollie had been on the carpet, re-reading a book from the little library in the room as she had zipped through every book the library had to offer weeks ago. 

“You are to follow me downstairs when you are dressed.”

Mollie’s eyes snapped up in surprise and she quickly scrambled to her feet.

“I can leave the room?” she whispered. She wondered if the woman was playing some cruel joke on her but Esperanza had never ever done such a thing in the past and she doubted she would start now.

The older woman nodded. 

“Master Lyon requests your presence.”

Mollie rolled her eyes. She despised being summoned and treated like his property, but she had no choice but to subdue her bubbling anger. 

Mollie had never dressed herself faster and as soon as she was ready she took the woman’s arm and proceeded to exit the chambers. 

As they descended a flight of stairs Mollie realized that everything around them was silent, as if there was no one else living in the manor.

Mollie certainly hoped this was the case.

As they walked towards their destination Mollie recognized the door in front of her and realized they were back to the parlour room.

She cringed as she remembered what had happened weeks earlier and took a deep breath before they entered.

When Mollie’s eyes met Micah’s her stomach flopped and her cheeks flared. 

He was in all black like her, his hair combed and styled to perfection. He had a charming smile on his face with his hands resting lightly in his coat pockets draped stylishly over his waistcoat. Mollie was drawn to the patterned expensive ascot around his throat that completed his regal persona.

He looked breathtaking and Mollie found it hard to look away. The candlelight emanated a yellow tone to the air making his caramel hair appear more gold than usual and his eyes more bright and luminous. 

_He’s only pretty on the outside._

She didn’t smile back as Esperanza slowly left the room allowing a soft breeze to flicker the candles surrounding them. 

He looked pleased with the outfit she had on which featured a thigh high split on the side to expose her long legs. The bodice was tight fitting, highlighting her slender waist and the scallop trimmed strapless top gave her an air of sophistication and maturity. The older woman had also tied her long thick hair into a low demure bun to compliment her slender shoulders and collarbone. 

The entire outfit made her look womanly and elite. 

Micah had opted for patent leather dress shoes instead of his usual riding boots and she shivered as he walked closer to her. 

The last time he had touched her had been in a moment of aggression and anger and she flinched at the memory. 

He stood in front of her and carefully tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“Black certainly looks good on you Mollie Mae.” 

She frowned as he gently took her arm in his and led her to a long table filled with food and delicacies. 

The room was empty apart from the two of them and Mollie wandered why there were no royal guards in the room. 

_"That you can see,"_ she thought bitterly as he gracefully set her into the chair.

She wondered why he was being so gentle with her and she watched as he elegantly walked to the middle of the table and reached for an ornate dish.

Mollie watched him closely as he proceeded to fill the plate with the food that lined the table. She still hadn’t come to any definitive conclusions about Micah Lyon but so far she knew he was different from his family members.

He seemed more alive today, his mouth turned up in a charming smile and his cheeks more rosy than she had ever seen them before. She wondered if it had anything to do with the manor being empty.

He walked toward her and carefully pushed the full plate down in front of her.

Mollie watched as he returned to his seat and reached for a goblet to pour himself a glass of whiskey. 

His eyes met hers and she swallowed uneasily. 

The room was filled with the warm inviting scent of expensive spices and seasoned breads but Mollie found it difficult to give in to her hunger. 

Food had always been sent with Esperanza when in her quarters and she was used to dining alone. Yet to dine one on one with the prince so abruptly was a surprise to her and the girl didn’t know quite what to make of it.

“Eat Mollie Mae,” he said giving her another charming smile. “You’re frailty is concerning.” 

Mollie looked down at her plate then up at the prince who only had a single goblet of whiskey in front of him.

“Why aren’t you eating?” 

She hadn’t touched her plate yet and she was instantly suspicious.

He smiled at her and his green eyes flickered down to her plate. 

“Don’t you worry about me,” he murmured taking another sip of his drink.

Mollie looked down at her plate and remembered what he had told her before.

_“I wouldn’t dream of poisoning anyone…that would be too easy don’t you think?”_

Mollie could tell he was waiting for her to proceed so she began to eat, bringing the first bite to her mouth. 

A savoury flavour filled her tongue and she almost sighed in pleasure at how _delicious_ the food was. Mollie had _never_ eaten anything so opulent and she made sure to pace herself as she worked though her meal. 

She was used to making high quality meals at the bakery back home, but it was strictly for her clients. The ingredients were simply too expensive for primary citizens to indulge in.

Micah was watching her from across the table, a contemplating look on his face.

She ate as much as she could and finally put her fork down. He had filled her plate completely and she couldn’t manage another morsel.

He slowly got up as she finished and carefully took her plate away. 

“Red or white?”

Mollie looked up blankly at him. 

“Pardon?”

He laughed and Mollie scowled at him. She didn’t trust him and she wasn’t about to any time soon either. 

“I’m referring to the wine,” he clarified. “Most people have a preference.”

Mollie stared at him as he walked over to the stainless steel fridge adjacent from them. Gingerly he pulled out a glass bottle and brought it to the table. 

“I’ve never…,” she trailed off staring at the bottle.

Wine was a luxury of the wealthy. A staple on the dinner table for Quaternary citizens and royalty. There was no way Mollie would have ever had access to something so extravagant.  
Surely he knew this?

He looked down at the bottle briefly then swiftly poured 2 glasses, one of red and one of white. 

He walked towards her slowly 2 glasses in his hands and held them out for her to try.

She looked at his placid expression before carefully taking the lighter beverage from his hand. She was on edge and she noticed that he strangely seemed extremely at ease. However she knew he was unpredictable and she hoped maybe…if she played her cards right, she could actually find out more about the Lyons and their hidden agenda.

She brought the cool glass to her lips and took a small sip. A fruity blossoming taste assaulted her taste buds and she gently laid the glass down on the table. She didn’t mind that one. 

She took the other glass from his waiting hand and did the same. A bitter more acidic taste hit her and she quickly scrunched her face in displeasure. She noticed how Micah laughed when she did this and she couldn’t help but stare at him in confusion.

_Was this really the same person that had mocked her...abused her...humiliated her?_

He was a different person, confident, playful, and…seemingly content. Her confusion only increased and if anything it left her feeling more uncertain than ever before.

She gently put the glass with the red wine down and turned to look at him. He had opted for a glass of red wine for himself and stood near the bar his eyes already on her.

“Master Lyon…may I ask you something?”

Something flashed in his eyes when he turned them to Mollie but as quickly as it appeared, his curtain of blankness returned. 

“You may, but there’s no guarantee I can answer.” 

He proceeded to walk back to the other end of the table and sit back down. His hands rested lightly on the table yet his posture remained stiff and elegant. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered looking up at him. “Why keep me hostage here?”

His expression of placidity never wavered but he did smile for a brief moment as he lightly tapped his fingers against the wine glass. The sound reverberated around the quiet room and Mollie was beginning to feel her palms sweat. She prayed her question wouldn’t trigger him.

“That’s two questions fawn,” he said with a faint smile.

_Shoot. He really didn’t miss a thing._

Mollie thought back to the girls in the basement, sleeping on hard floors and surviving on rationed meals. Before she could even comprehend what she was doing she let the question slip from her lips.

“What are you doing with those girls in the basement?”

The prince’s expression didn’t change despite the aggressive manner in which she asked her question.

He paused for a moment before proceeding.

“Conducting business,” he said simply taking another sip of his wine.

His apathy infuriated her and she could feel her fists clench beneath the table. She paused and waited for him to elaborate but he never did. He continued sipping his wine and looking at her with his cold calculated gaze.

“Your family is fucked up.”

She had been itching to tell that to his face since her first confrontation with him and she felt some of her anger dissipate after the release. 

He smiled when she said this and his reaction irritated her.

“All families have their share of anomalies,” he said courtly. 

“Is that what you call it?” she could feel the blood rush through her cheeks and her anger beginning to rise. 

“I saw what you did to that girl in the dining room,” she spat. “I saw how you used her to fulfil your fucked up fantasies.”

His lips tightened when she said this and she could see that she had slightly touched a nerve.

“There’s nothing wrong with worshipping the body of a woman.”

He had stood up suddenly and began making his way toward Mollie. She tensed and reached for the table only to find that he had already removed the cutlery when he took her plate away. She should have grabbed the bloody knife while she had the chance. 

“Let me show you,” he breathed as he walked to the chair behind Mollie. 

The girl felt a shiver down her spine as the prince brought his cold hand to her neck. The scar was still etched into her skin from when he had dragged her weeks before and he gently brushed his fingers along it.

 _“He branded me,”_ she thought feeling the contents of her stomach roil. 

The temperature of the room was warm and his hands were a cooling sensation as they travelled down her exposed neck to her shoulders. Gently he brought his hands underneath her arms and lifted her to her feet. 

She had on shiny black heels and she realized that she stood almost to his height as he faced her to him. Their bodies were in line, chest to chest, torso to torso, ankle to ankle. 

He reached forward and pulled her hair free so her wavy locks fell free along her back. She heard him groan when he did so and slowly, he brought his head downwards to nestle against her neck. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured against her skin. She stood frozen to the spot as one of the most powerful men in the country planted soft kisses along her neck to her earlobe. His hands had ventured downwards to hold her waist and he quickly caught her earlobe between his teeth giving it a sharp tug. 

“Stop.” 

Mollie’s voice wavered. He ignored her and brought her close to his chest enveloping her in his warmth. The familiar smell of his citrus-musky cologne filled her nose and she trembled as Micah continued to kiss downwards, his lips getting dangerously close to her breasts. 

With a sharp tug he pulled the top of her gown down freeing a round breast. She squirmed in an attempt to free herself but his grip was impossibly strong.

With a gasp from Mollie, Micah pushed her onto the dining table pulling the gown down to her navel and using his hands to cup her mounds as he breathed in the scent of her chest, his nose brushing her skin.

“Please.”

She was fighting with all her might to keep him off but this only seemed to fuel his hunger for her. 

His fingers pinched her tightened nubs and she gasped as the sensation sent heat spreading through her torso towards her heated core. 

His thick wavy hair brushed across her chin and she couldn’t help but marvel at its lustrous texture. 

With a speed she didn’t think possible his eyes met hers and his lips followed suit forcing Mollie to cooperate. 

His lips tasted bitter, like the red wine she had sampled and he slowly let his tongue entwine with hers. He kissed her deeply his fingers continuing to twist and pull her hardened nipples and she gasped against his lips. He smiled against her mouth as he felt her skin flush and her breathing increase.

 _“Please!”_ she gasped, the heat of their moment making her feel faint. 

She didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of it, especially not with Micah Lyon.

“Please what?”

His lips had ventured from her mouth down to her breasts and he slowly closed his mouth over her rock hard nipple teasing the bud between his teeth and swirling his tongue in tantalizing motions.

She moaned as his hands ventured beneath her dress to slide along her exposed leg between the slit of her dress, his ring a cool sensation against her blazing skin.

She didn’t know what she was begging for. His sucking had her legs trembling and her cheeks flaring and she couldn’t bring herself to think straight.

His fingers inched further up her leg to the secret place between her thighs where the heat of their moment had caused an accumulation of a substantial amount of moisture.

He smiled against her breast as his fingers expertly twisted her panties aside to press the circular button beneath her hood.

“No,” she protested as he inserted his fingers inside of her. The motion sent her jerking against the table and she felt her elbows hit the wood hard. As his fingers twisted between her folds she could feel the orgasm building within her and against her hardest efforts she couldn’t seem to dissipate the building climax. 

With a high pitched moan she came beneath the prince her gasping transitioning into moans as the prince sucked her neck, leaving dark bruises against her bronzed skin. 

She had given up trying to push him off of her and she lay exhausted and utterly spent along the table, her dress pooling to the floor as she lay on the dinner table in nothing but her thin soaked panties. He slowly removed his fingers from within her and she moaned with her eyes shut tight at the peculiar sensation.

He was panting on top of her and she could feel a hard heavy object poking against her torso as she writhed beneath the prince. 

Gently she felt the prince insert his fingers into her mouth and she could do nothing but allow him to proceed. 

A sharp tangy flavour filled her mouth as she tasted herself on her tongue. Micah sighed against her neck as he slowly removed his fingers from her mouth.

“See how sweet you taste?” he murmured brushing soft affectionate kisses against her neck. 

She could barely keep her eyes open as the prince began to delicately slide the elegant black dress back onto her lithe body. 

“Mollie Mae,” he whispered against her as he picked her up into his arms. 

The last thing that filled her vision were shades of pale green as she fell into a deep slumber against the youngest member of the family she was compelled to destroy.


	14. Silicium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie probes deeper into the history of the Lyon family. Mollie also confirms her suspicions about the eldest Lyon.

Mollie woke up to warm streaming sunlight and soft silk bedsheets. It was the first dreamless night she had spent in the manor and she stretched and brushed her thick messy curls from her face. 

She shot up when she remembered the events from last night and she blushed in spite of herself.

She was back in her chambers and she couldn’t quite remember how she had gotten there following dinner. 

She looked down to see herself in a delicate pink slip dress that did little to cover her thighs. 

She didn’t change herself into these clothes…

She began to hyperventilate as she felt the small bruises on her neck from where the prince had used his teeth to suck on her most sensitive area. 

_Had he…Had he slept with her?_

Reflexively, she closed her legs but felt nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions?

The door opened and she stared at the door as Esperanza walked in slowly. Mollie breathed a sigh relief and she untangled herself from the dark bedsheets.

The woman appeared to have more creases lining on her face and she appeared on edge. 

“Master Lyon has permitted me to take you outside for some fresh air.” 

Esperanza laid out a simple peach dress for Mollie to wear and Mollie watched as she shuffled about the room for some time. 

By the time Mollie was dressed and presentable, the older woman was ready to accompany her and together they made their way down the grand staircase to the main level.

Mollie looked around her in search of the prince but the manor appeared as it always had to Mollie, empty and silent. 

“Where is Master Lyon?” she asked as the woman gripped her arm lightly and steered her towards the gardens. 

Esperanza looked sharply at her and she wondered why the woman appeared so flustered. 

“Master Lyon had business to attend to in the North.” 

_So he wasn’t here._

Mollie nodded and kept her arm locked with Esperanza as they walked the gardens together. The gardens must have extended over several acres and she stared in awe at the lush greenery that surrounded them. Each hedge was artfully complete with its own arched rosebushes and a centrepiece of various fountains of flowing water to hydrate the plant life around it. 

There were several sculptures around the gardens and Mollie took her time reading the plaques that accompanied them. Most of them appeared to be late male members of the Lyon family. 

As Esperanza led her deeper into the foliage she began to notice more female sculptures. They all shared a common quality and Mollie noticed how all of their bodies were twisted in a brutal almost devastating way. This was a stark contrast to the male figures who all appeared erect and elegant.

In spite of this twisted quality, the females all looked painfully beautiful, with full lips, flowing hair, and cold cold expressions.

Roses of numerous colours adorned the female sculptures and Mollie marvelled at the beauty that surrounded her. She may not like the Lyons but they certainly knew how to maintain their property. 

As she gazed around her she noticed a particularly beautiful female sculpture that appeared to have its own fountain and pedestal within the garden. 

Mollie let go of Esperanza’s arm and she heard the old woman tut behind her. Mollie ignored her and walked towards the sculpture as if in a trance. A sweet fragrance filled her senses and she noticed the sculpture was adorned with different flowers, the plants giving off a fresh scent of their own. 

The sculpture was of a girl.

She looked no more than sixteen and Mollie could cry at how beautiful she was. 

The sculpture resembled a young girl with flowing curls, her cheek resting on her palm and a sweet childish smile on her face.

Although the white sculpture limited her ability to visualize the girl in colour, she could tell there was something significant about the girl for her to have her own secret spot within the Lyon Manor Gardens. Mollie felt a sharp sense of déjà vu as she gazed upon the woman’s delicate features and she couldn’t help but feel as if she’d seen that face before…

Mollie stepped closer to peer at her name written in fancy calligraphy upon an aged plaque.

**Izabel Lyon**

Mollie’s fingers brushed the plaque that had her birth and death date engraved across its seal.

_Sixteen years of age._

She turned to see the old woman staring at her. 

“This doesn’t make sense,” she murmured staring at the sculpture. “How could she have passed away at sixteen?”

Esperanza walked up beside her and Mollie could see there were tears on the old woman’s cheeks. 

“She was not the boy’s mother if that’s what you were thinking.”

Mollie breathed a sigh relief and continued gazing upon the sculpture. 

She had sensed something tragic happened to her and although she despised the monarchy, she felt pain for the loss of such a pure life. 

“I still remember it as if it were yesterday,” Esperanza murmured. “Logan, Hartley, Atem, Caius, and sweet little Izabel.” 

Mollie watched as a glazed look fell over the older woman’s eyes and Mollie could see she was lost in a flood of memories.

“She loved peonies,” the old woman said with a soft chuckle. She used to grab them from the gardens and hide them under her bed…”

Mollie’s gaze flickered to the pathway that led them back to the mansion and she wondered if she had a chance. But she decided against fleeing. She seemed to be making progress with Esperanza and she couldn’t bring herself to jeopardize their relationship and breach the trust they had created. 

“What happened to her?” Mollie asked.

Esperanza sighed and brushed her fingers against her withered cheeks. 

“It was an accident…” she trailed off. “A most tragic occurrence.” 

Mollie rested lightly against the side bushes and looked expectantly at Esperanza. 

The old woman had a shawl tied tightly around her thin but strong shoulders and she had a rather bitter expression on her normally kind face. 

“I don’t think you quite understand the extent…the history…the calibre of this monarchy.”

Mollie felt her blood boil at the comment. She knew exactly how this monarchy worked. She had sussed them out a long time ago. 

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” Mollie bristled. “An empire built upon the backs of the poor amidst a lavishly funded lifestyle due to the trafficking of sex slaves.” 

Mollie crossed her arms and stared at the woman. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” 

Esperanza smiled sadly when she regarded Mollie. 

“Just as I thought,” she said quietly. 

She looked at Mollie and shook her head in disappointment for a while putting Mollie on edge. 

“That brash personality of yours will only entertain the prince for so long,” she said suddenly regarding Mollie with distaste for the first time.

Mollie sensed the hidden warning behind her words but she kept her mouth shut. She needed to know more information. 

“It was over twenty one years ago. And the Lyons at the time were dividing their regime into sections to be ruled independently by each son.” 

Esperanza began to pace around the sculpture of Izabel Lyon as she continued telling her story.

“The Northern regions would be managed and ruled by the eldest son of Malcolm and Cressida Lyon. That was Atem Lyon. The West would be ruled by Logan, the East by Caius, and the South by Hartley.” 

Mollie cringed when she heard the name Logan. She didn’t think she would ever forget the face of the drunk blond man she had had the luxury of entertaining only weeks ago. She harboured suspicions that he was indeed a family member. However, she now had her confirmation.

Esperanza gestured around the gardens when she mentioned the South and Mollie crossed her arms around her body to conserve heat. The temperature had dropped and Mollie’s thin dress was not doing much to shield her from the breeze. 

“As the regime began to expand and the economy continued to thrive, encroachment into new territories was at an all time high. It became more difficult for the Lyons to partition off certain lands and come to a fair agreement in territorial sovereignty agreements.”

It was the most the woman had ever spoken and Mollie had somehow managed to keep herself silent. Although she was burning with questions she did her best to curb her curiosity. 

“It follows that the eldest son who marries first is entitled to distribution of the lands and ultimately holds the power to pass and enforce the laws of his governing nation.”

Mollie nodded at this. They had learned certain rules about the monarchy in school growing up, but it was very vague and convoluted. 

“Atem Lyon being the first born was essentially first in line.” 

She sighed as she continued.

“But he was deemed too… unstable by other members of government to maintain his position of power…I remember the night as if it were yesterday.” 

Esperanza had reached out to brush her fingers against the sculpture of the girl and Mollie figured the woman must have been very close to this Izabel Lyon in the past. 

“The brother’s had gotten into a particularly nasty fight. Swords were drawn, threats were thrown and positions were jeopardized.”

Mollie had her suspicions that this was not some typical family quarrel. 

“In a fit of rage Atem had intended to stab his younger brother but his precarious nature was too much for even himself to handle. In his state of anger he misjudged his lunge, catching his sister instead.” 

The woman wiped her tears as she continued and Mollie put her head down.

“The girls screams could be heard from all the way across the cliffs into the mountains behind us.” 

Mollie was shaken as the woman told the story. She had never known about the brotherhood that existed within the monarchy, nor about the death of such a significant family member of the Lyon family blood line.

“How come we never heard about her?” Mollie asked.

“It was too painful for the family to bear. So Hartley being the second born took it upon himself to punish his brother for the incessant and heinous crime.”

Mollie tensed when she heard this.

“So they executed him,” Mollie said wanly staring at the baby blue peonies in front of her.

Esperanza laughed humourlessly. 

“No child, they tortured him…for weeks…months…until he finally passed…” her voice trailed off slightly and the wind whistled around them. “Death does not come so easy to those that have sinned.” 

Esperanza sighed as she continued.

“Izabel…was the brother’s pride and joy. They loved her…and what was not to love? She was the most beautiful little thing one could lay their eyes on. A spitting image of their mother.”

Her voice had dropped a few octaves lower and Mollie could see the memories flashing through her as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and her gaze remained glassy.

“Her death was something none of them fully got over. Hartley was never the same after that. And then to lose his wife so quickly after his sister and being new to throne….it was all so much for him to handle.”

The old woman sighed.

“You don’t blame him for being so….frigid.”

Mollie shifted uneasily when she heard this.

“Porphyria Lyon.”

Esperanza locked eyes with her as Mollie’s voice pierced the air. Mollie remembered learning about her in school. She was Hartley’s late wife who passed away well before Mollie was even born. 

“She died…from childbirth right?”

Mollie had remembered the annual flower ceremony in late December. In fact…it would be soon if Mollie had kept track of time correctly.

It was a ceremony in honour of the late Queen. Everyone was required to remain indoors on that day. It was a sign of respect to mourn the passing of the queen. Everyone dressed in black and purged themselves of what little luxuries they had for the entire day and night. 

Mollie remembered that day quite vividly in her memory from the year before. Her mother had been in a fit of rage and Mollie had spent most of the day trying to keep her mother’s voice from disturbing the rest of her apartment block.

“Yes,” Esperanza said quietly. “She passed away from complications during childbirth…she never even got to hold her son. Not once.”

Mollie looked down.

_Micah._

“It’s a difficult thing to live with…being responsible for the death of one’s own mother.”

Mollie shivered at the dark tone to her words.

“Does he blame himself?” Mollie asked quietly.

Esperanza narrowed her eyes at her.

“What do you think?” 

She wanted to feel bad for him, she really did…the ache within her was sharp. Her heart was telling her to do so but her brain was telling her the opposite.

How could she? After everything he had put her through, after all the questionable business ventures he condoned, after all the fatalities his monarchy had overseen. She had a right to remain sceptical.

***

When they returned to the mansion Esperanza ordered Mollie to wait in the hallway as she finished up some of her other duties. 

Mollie walked along the grand entrance waiting for the old woman and her mind began to wander. She kept finding herself thinking about Micah. She kept telling herself she was only thinking about him because he had been the one overseeing her for the past couple weeks. 

She kept feeling his fingers around her neck, his soft kisses against her cheek and she wondered how someone who had proven himself to be so cruel could have a side to him that appeared so tender. 

She wondered if his cruel nature could be attributed to the bitterness he felt at robbing the life of the woman who created him. She wondered if his brothers blamed him for what happened.

She wanted to believe that his true side was indeed his gentle side, and that the cold front he put up was a barrier to protect himself from vulnerability. 

She didn’t know which part of him to believe…which part of him to trust…

“My my to what do I owe this honour?”

Mollie felt her blood run cold and she felt her stomach churn. 

_She knew that voice. God she knew that voice._

She turned around slowly and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

The first thing she noticed was his nautical inspired double breasted blue coat complete with large gold buttons. It reached to behind his ankles covering the sharp black suit he wore beneath. He towered over Mollie despite his distance and Mollie couldn’t help but feel as if his very presence overshadowed the entire room.

He had that cruel smile etched onto his features and his hair was combed and parted elegantly, his dark waves held in place behind his ears.

Her hate was unparalleled when it came to James Lyon and it took every ounce of Mollie’s self-control not to take him down right then and there.

“Master Lyon,” she murmured avoiding his eyes. 

She could feel his eyes on her as she kept her gaze locked to the ground.

“Are you ready James?” 

Mollie looked up in surprise to see a beautiful woman coming down the staircase. Her hair was long and straight and the colour of a blazing fire. Mollie had never seen hair that red. Her friend Phoebe’s didn’t even come close.

She radiated elegance and Mollie could tell from her outfit, her posture, and her facial expression that she was part of the elitist class. She had that frosty aura to her that was so reflective of Quaternary status citizens. She wore a long flowing dark blue dress that trailed behind her. It matched James’ entire outfit and she wondered…

“Of course my love.” 

The woman had a natural blush to her cheeks and as she descended the staircase to slip her arm in James, it was as if Mollie wasn’t even in the room. 

“Wait for me in the carriage outside, I’ll be right there.”

She nodded at James who leaned in to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek. 

On cue, the woman was escorted outside by 2 guards who flanked her and she disappeared from view leaving Mollie alone with the eldest prince once again.

She couldn’t help but wonder if this woman knew about James…about the family, about their various business expenditures. More specifically about her lover’s involvement in these various businesses. Or if she even cared. 

“Are you lost my dear?” 

Mollie felt sick and she quietly shook her head. The false concern in his voice was more than evident to Mollie and she looked around her in search of anyone or anything.

There was something terribly sinister about the look on James’ face and Mollie felt like a deer in headlights as she stood in the middle of the massive empty foyer.

He offered his arm out to Mollie. Like his brothers, his movements were graceful and elegant. 

“Come, I have something to show you.” 

Mollie shook her head and looked behind her. 

“I should stay here…I’m waiting on someone,” she trailed off. 

James chuckled as she took a careful step backward.

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” 

His face remained passive and charming but unlike Micah, Mollie could see the cruelty etched within his fine features, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

_No wonder he wasn’t as popular with the public._

Mollie stiffened and hesitantly made eye contact with the eldest prince. 

She moved her feet forward, her simple peach dress swaying and carefully looped her arm through his. She really had no other choice.

_What does he know?_

Her heart began to race as he gripped her arm tightly and steered her down the hallway and towards a descending staircase. 

The temperature dropped the further they descended and Mollie wandered if the manor itself was built upon some kind of underground city. She remembered the winding corridors that Micah had taken her through during her first few days here. Could it be possible that James was leading her to the same location?

They reached a dark unlit corridor where a heavy metal door was waiting at the end of the tunnel. 

“In.” 

James still wore that loose smile on his face and this somehow made Mollie more nervous. 

She reached out to grasp the cold steely handle and carefully pulled the door open. 

The lights flickered on and Mollie had to grab the wall to keep herself upright when she saw what lay before her.

The corridor was lined with transparent glass cages that were serving the purpose of a jail cell. There must have been over sixty of them in the vast room and each one held a prisoner inside. An equal proportion of men and women were housed in these compartments and some of them were clothed and some of them weren’t. 

She looked up at James in horror who had a satisfied smile on his face. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” he said gesturing to the room before them. His voice was so similar to Micah’s and she felt several knots form in her belly. 

With Micah, she could push her boundaries and still hope to survive at the end of the day. 

But James was the most unpredictable Lyon she had encountered so far. She didn’t want to think about the consequences of pushing him to his limit. 

“This is what happens to traitors of the monarchy,” he explained his eyes locked on the scene before him. 

She gulped uneasily as his hand touched her exposed shoulder lightly but with authority. His fingers didn’t hold the same softness as Micah’s. They were rough and dry, not unlike his personality. 

The prisoners quickly dropped to their knees and began to murmur in unison. Some of them had curled up into a foetal position and all of them averted their gaze. 

_They all had families once. They all had lives…_

Mollie turned to James and in spite of her efforts her voice shook.

“Why are you telling me this?” 

Her hands had begun to sweat profusely and she tried her best to keep them clasped behind her. 

“All guests of the Lyon Manor are permitted to know.” 

He stepped even closer to her so his face was inches above her own and Mollie had to dig her fingernails into her palms to keep herself from shaking.

“We know everything about everyone walking about our premises,” he breathed staring her down. 

He paused for a long moment. His eyes scaled down her body and up to her face, taking in her features. 

“And I sure as hell know you’re not one of my sluts.” 

Mollie recoiled at his sudden change in expression. The gentle lilt of his voice never changed but the expression on his face was one of raw animosity and Mollie felt as if she were staring at the devil himself.

“I belong to young Master Lyon.”

James laughed humourlessly his breath washing over her face. 

“I find it hard to believe my baby brother would keep a slut for himself. It’s not… in his nature to do so.” 

Mollie didn’t quite know how to respond so she put her head down and tried to control her breathing.

_Pant._

_Pant._

_Pant._

He had reached into his coat to pull out a small thin object and Mollie saw that it was a slender oddly shaped knife. As if to stroke her cheek in a gesture of affection he brought the knife down and brushed it across the visible bruises on her neck. 

Mollie squeezed her eyes tight and prayed to every God she knew to make her death quick. 

“I’m sure you enjoyed every bit of it didn’t you,” he breathed sliding the knife from her throat to her breasts.

In one quick motion he ripped her dress down the middle with the sharp edge of his knife. The fabric fell in two large pieces to the ground leaving her in nothing but her cotton panties. 

_“Please God,”_ she prayed in her mind as she shut her eyes tight.

Slowly but surely he brought the knife towards her vagina purposefully prodding the sharp end against her skin through her thin underwear. 

She was visibly shaking at this point and as she opened her eyes she could see the delight in James Lyon’s eyes as he toyed with her. 

_He was enjoying this._

The knife was razor sharp and curved slightly at the blades end. Mollie stared at it as James held the object between her legs. It resembled some sort of archaic torture device.

Neatly he stroke the sharp edge against her panties ripping the fabric apart and exposing her nether regions to the cool air.

In a flash he flipped the object into his pocket and proceeded to prod two large fingers into her unprepared and unlubricated vagina.

She cried out at the force of his penetration and felt the pain hit her immediately. She stumbled against him as her long legs crumpled beneath her, the pain a wringing sound in her ears. 

He chuckled lowly as the tears streamed down her face and her sobs began to rip free from her throat. The feeling lasted only for a moment but the sudden penetration was enough to startle her and disturb her unprepared canal. 

He pulled his fingers away as harshly as he inserted them in and Mollie whimpered against his blue jacket as he looked down at her expressionlessly. 

“You fucking liar,” he breathed. 

He stepped closer to her and gripped her by the throat with one hand shaking her slightly as the tears smeared across her face.

“The only part of the body that lies are the lips.” 

With that he let her slide to her knees on the rough concrete as the tears fell down her face.

“I’ve got my eye on you. Always.”

He quickly adjusted his collar and smoothed down his coat. Without a backwards glance at Mollie he strode out of the room letting the door close behind him with a bang.

Mollie scrambled on her knees after he left and proceeded to bend over and vomit onto the rough floor. She heaved until her stomach was empty and the tears smearing her face dried into a sticky sheen. 

Her insides throbbed as she shakily stood up grabbing whatever tatters remained of her dress and tried her best to tie the fabric around herself to conceal her nudity. 

She somehow found her way back to the main floor of the manor. 

Each step forward initiated a stinging pain in her vaginal canal and she stumbled forward dragging herself upstairs toward her chambers. 

She entered and came face to face with Esperanza who Mollie quickly noticed had been pacing the room.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

When she looked at Mollie’s face her expression quickly softened and her complexion paled. 

“Child,” she whispered taking in Mollie’s outfit, wild hair, and tear stained face. “What happened to you?”

With a pain she never knew existed, the girl dropped to her knees and sobbed into the carpet her cries absorbing into the soft ground.

She finally allowed herself the luxury of purging herself of all of the turbulent emotions that had plagued her since her first night at the manor.


	15. Phosphore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micah's return to the manor reveals another side to the prince. Mollie feels her time is running out.

Mollie had spent the last couple of days beneath the covers of her sheets, shutting out the world, lost in a haze of her own thoughts. 

She had ignored Esperanza’s requests for her to eat, to talk, to function…

She would rather remain within the safe recesses of her mind, going through each and every gruesome scenario of picking off the flesh of James Lyon, bit by bit. 

Today, the door opened more forcefully than before and Mollie pulled the sheet over her head.

“Child. This needs to stop.”

The woman’s voice was one of complete exhaustion and in spite of herself Mollie felt bad for her. All other factors aside, she _had_ been good to Mollie. No one had ever treated Mollie with the gentleness and kindness that Esperanza had shown her and she owed it to the woman. 

She brought her face up from the sheets and watched as Esperanza walked forwards to sit on the bed beside her.

“I can’t do this.” Mollie said emotionlessly. The weight of her plight felt heavier today than it ever had and Mollie was crumpling under the pressure.

She had been terrified to leave the room, afraid James would be waiting outside the door. Waiting to chop her up with his plethora of various torture devices. She wasn’t safe alone in this manor. 

As ironic as it was, she wasn’t safe here without Micah. 

“You don’t understand,” she whispered trying her best to keep the tears from flowing. “James…he…he…”

Mollie couldn’t even bring herself to explain. The memory was still too fresh.

“Don’t tell me.” Esperanza held her hand out and averted her gaze from Mollie’s. “I neither want nor need to know.” 

Mollie sighed. 

“I can’t do this anymore Esperanza. I can’t.”

The woman was looking at Mollie in an odd way but Mollie really couldn’t be bothered at this point in time.

“I never took you as the self-pitying type.” 

Mollie felt her anger surge and she glared at the old woman.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Esperanza smiled and shook her head and Mollie wanted nothing more than to wipe the cynical expression off the woman's face. 

“I knew that fire was still inside you.” 

Mollie sighed and looked down at her hands. 

“Child, take it from me. There are much worse positions you could be in.” 

The woman’s dark eyes were clouded as she looked at Mollie and Mollie could see a flood of memories that lay concealed and hidden before them. She had lived a long and colourful life and Mollie could see a deep sadness behind her dark irises. 

She had been through worse, much worse. Mollie had nothing to complain about.

“How do you stand it?” Mollie whispered picking at a thread in the thick duvet. “How do you continue?”

The older woman looked thoughtfully at her for a long quiet moment. 

“You find something worth continuing for.” 

Mollie bristled and brushed her hands through her frizzy unkept hair. She was expecting to hear advice that was a bit more substantial. 

“Maybe you’ll understand some day.”

With a quiet sigh, the woman left the room leaving Mollie to deal with her heavy thoughts in solitude. 

Mollie stared at the glass chandelier above her and watched as the candles on each one flickered on to the wall in front of her. Their trembling shadows resembled dark quivering eyes and Mollie lifted the comforter as far as she could manage over her head to trap herself beneath the comfort of her blankets. 

***

When Mollie opened her eyes again she realized she had officially lost track of how much time had gone by.

Her heart ached thinking about her mother, her colleagues, all of the people she had left behind. Her mother couldn’t function for prolonged periods of time without Mollie and the girl wondered if she was even alive. 

She should feel upset, angry, or even saddened about contemplating such sinister thoughts, but the only emotion that seemed to penetrate through her was emptiness. 

She stiffened when she felt soft cold fingers brush over her exposed back. 

She rolled over on the expansive bed and her brown eyes met familiar clear green ones.

She hated to admit to herself that she found comfort in his presence. She attributed this profound sense of relief to having been isolated for so long. 

“You took your dear sweet time.” 

Her voice came out harsh and groggy. Micah had a secret smile on his face as he carefully brushed her stray curls from her forehead. 

“If I knew you’d miss me that much I would have tried to return sooner.” 

Mollie rolled her eyes at this. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she mumbled pushing herself up from the bed. 

He was watching her from his seat at the edge of the bed. His hands were folded elegantly in his lap and he wore a jet black cloak that enveloped his body and flowed down towards the ground. 

Mollie suddenly felt self-conscious as Micah scrutinized her from the bed. His outfit and royal attire was fitted to perfection and complimented his tall lean figure exquisitely. 

She, on the other hand must have looked like hell.

He frowned when she rubbed her hands over her eyes. 

“Don’t be so rough Mollie Mae,” he said standing up to his full height. 

He approached her calmly and she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“You should be more gentle with yourself,” he murmured rubbing his thumbs softly against her cheeks. His fingers traced the dark shadows under her eyes and his lips tightened. 

“Have you not been sleeping well?” 

She rolled her eyes at him and pushed his hands away.

“Don’t act like you care,” she grumbled. 

Surprisingly he let her go as she stepped into the vast adjoining washroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.

The washroom was equipped with everything Mollie could possibly need and more from expensive feminine hygiene products, to sweet smelling soaps, and fancy moisturizing lotions that rich people indulged in. 

The sweet smell made Mollie sick and she refused to use any of them. 

When she returned, she saw that Micah had seated himself in the chaise located in the corner of the room. He remain poised, his posture stiff, but he held something slim and shiny in his hand. He was staring intently at it and Mollie could feel the chill in the air. There was something turning in his mind and Mollie felt as if she could hear the squeak of the gears. 

“Master Lyon?” she questioned hesitantly. 

In moments like these, when his mind was far away, Mollie knew Micah was at his most unpredictable. She slowly approached him, smoothing down her pink slip and taking a seat on the chair beside him. 

He didn’t respond and she took that as being acceptable. 

“Master Lyon?” she tried again, her voice softer. 

As Mollie glanced down at his hands she saw he was turning over a small pocket watch between his fingers. The device looked familiar to her…like she’d seen it before in a distant memory. 

“Those holds photos don’t they?”

She didn’t meant to blurt it out. She could tell she had interrupted a memory but Mollie had issues when it came to certain impulse inhibitions. 

He ignored her at first brushing his fingers against the thin circular metal. As Mollie looked closer she could see the insignia of a lion on the cover. Everything in this place was branded.

“Yes.”

She thought he was going to open the watch or expand on the topic but he remained quiet. Mollie then noticed that he was wearing all black. Mollie looked around her suddenly. 

A simple but elegant black dress, different from the one she had worn to his dinner weeks ago, also hung across the vanity in the room. He must have brought it in while she was still asleep. 

“It’s today,” she whispered feeling like a complete fool. Today was the day everyone gathered together to mourn the late queen. Was it the 31st of December already? 

Mollie swallowed uneasily. She wasn’t the best at conveying her emotions. But she knew today must have been hard, even for someone as cruel and as seemingly strong as the prince. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. She went to reach for him, in an involuntary gesture of comfort, but he stiffened and leaned away from her.

Her face flamed and she recoiled slightly. God now she was trying to comfort her captor, she must really be losing her mind. 

“Don’t be.”

His voice came out harsh and icy and she kept her gaze locked on her hands. 

He sighed and stood up his cloak billowing behind him. 

“You don’t have to pretend not to care,” she said flatly. Her cheeks still burned and she averted her gaze. 

He turned his pale eyes on her and she saw his features twist in anger. 

“I _don’t_ care,” he snapped at her. She obviously hit a nerve and she quieted immediately. 

This was a topic Mollie realized she should shy away from. She angled herself away from the prince and ostentatiously looked around the room. 

“So am I going to spend the last day of this year locked away in a room?” 

Her tone came out sounding more sardonic than she intended and she bit her lip in fear. 

His shoulders had relaxed since his last outburst but she could still see his fists slowly flexing and unflexing. 

“You just might if you don’t change that tone.” 

She looked up in surprise but saw that his features were relaxed. He recovered quickly.

“Change into what I brought for you,” he murmured inclining his head toward the vanity. “I have something to show you.” 

As silent as a serpent he left the room closing the door behind him with a soft click. 

She eyed the dress and felt her stomach flop at his words.

_I have something to show you_

The image of James Lyon’s predatory smile flashed through her mind and she quickly swallowed the nausea building up inside her gut. 

_“He’s not James,”_ she told herself. 

A phantom pain radiated through her lower abdomen and she grasped the bedframe tightly as the vivid memory of the eldest Lyon passed through her mind. 

_No_

She brushed her hair back and wiped her sweaty palms on her dress. She couldn’t let him get to her. She wouldn’t. She still had time, time to find the contract, time to bring the monarchy down, and certainly time to make James Lyon suffer.

By god would she make him pay for what he did. She couldn’t let Micah Lyon distract her from her duties. At the end of the day, he was still a Lyon.

With one final breath she grabbed her dress from the vanity and felt the Mollie she knew so well disappear behind an expensive gown the colour of a cloudless night sky. 

***

“Where are you taking me?” 

They had been walking for almost an hour now and the ends of Mollie’s black dress were dusty and muddy after scaling through wet grass and muddy terrain. The prince had said nothing since they had left the manor and Mollie was quite grateful. The exertion of the walk was taking a toll on Mollie and she was struggling in her long dress. 

“You’ll see.” 

The Lyon Manor was still visible behind them, a looming overbearing monstrosity that pierced the skyline and blocked the view of the cliff beyond. 

As Mollie stumbled over sparse branches along the pathway, Micah was there with a gloved hand to assist her over the various obstructions along the way. He was oddly formal today in his all black attire and neatly combed hair. It was strange to see him traverse the forest in such expensive garments. It was as if he didn’t belong in the brash environment that was the forest.

Rather, he belonged within the marble walls of his mansion, protected and shrouded by the luxuries bestowed upon by the rich. He reminded her of a precious painting, protected from the acrid elements of the outside world and pampered with varnish and meticulously maintained for others to appreciate its beauty. 

Mollie could see a small building appearing in the clearing and as they ventured closer she could see it resembled a small cottage. It was simple and quaint and something Mollie would have expected to find in her birth town of Riverton. Her memories of Riverton were fleeting but there was something about the flowing rivers and thick foliage atop wooden lodges that cast a painful reminder in her mind.

Micah opened the door to reveal a small but tidy area complete with soft plush settees and an open fireplace. In contrast to the simple exterior, the interior was expensively furnished and the various paintings and set pieces that adorned the room were tastefully selected. 

Mollie wondered whether Micah himself designed it. It was significantly more warm and inviting than the manor and it was the first time since Mollie set foot outside Chartery that she felt truly at home. 

“This is beautiful,” she breathed taking in her surroundings. “Did you build this place?”

Micah had removed his cloak revealing his black dress shirt and black trousers. He was wearing those familiar riding boots and Mollie realized that he too seemed more relaxed. 

He laughed at her question as he untied the black ascot around his throat and tossed it atop of his cloak. He had a rather charming laugh and Mollie wished he did it more often. She preferred his laughter over his impassiveness.

“I’m afraid not. I wasn’t one to study the art of carpentry.”

 _"I'm sure,"_ she thought bitterly. His hands were even softer than hers. 

Mollie frowned as she watched Micah. There wasn’t a hair out of place as he walked closer to her. Mollie was at a loss for words as to how elegant and polished he appeared despite traversing the muddy seemingly unchartered grounds that existed beyond the manor. 

She glanced down at her mud splattered dress and scowled with envy. 

Mollie jumped when she saw an older woman enter from another door at the other end of the room. She wore a royal uniform identical to the one Mollie had borrowed from Isaac. The woman looked immediately at the prince when she entered and bowed deeply. 

“Everything is ready Master Lyon,” she said in a loud clear voice.

Mollie found it unusual how unperturbed she seemed by the prince. She was used to the royal guards in the manor who overtly avoided eye contact and appeared to shake in their boots at anyone’s passing. It was surprisingly refreshing. 

Micah nodded and the guard straightened quickly. Her eyes flickered to Mollie and Mollie saw a hint of curiosity in her gaze.

“I was unaware you were having company today Master Lyon.” Her voice was strict but formal and Mollie could sense a hidden meaning behind her words.

Mollie tensed as she observed Micah’s reaction. 

Surprisingly he smirked and reached into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a silk encased object the size of his palm and weighed it in his hand. It appeared rectangular in shape and Mollie was instantly curious. 

The woman smiled when she saw this and Micah casually tossed the object toward her. 

Her eyes flickered to Mollie curiously again before she slipped the object into her pocket. 

“There will be no disturbances tonight Master Lyon.”

Her tone held a note of finality and Mollie watched as she exited through the door she came through closing it behind her with a sharp click. 

Micah had already turned towards the fireplace and began lighting a flame to toss onto the piled wood. 

Mollie wondered why he had decided to take her here, to this isolated place in the middle of nowhere. She wondered if even people like him, with all the money in the world, sometimes cherished the simpler things in life. 

He gestured for her to join him by the fire place and she quickly followed. He had lowered himself onto the soft plush rug in front of the fire and Mollie attempted to follow suit in her dress. Her motions were more clumsy but she managed to follow through.

There was a single circular window above the door and in close proximity to the ceiling that filtered the late afternoon sun into the room. 

Mollie followed the prince’s movements as he carefully removed his black leather gloves from his hands revealing the pale skin of his fingers underneath. He placed them on the small carved wood table beside him and reached over to pour a glass of cool water in one goblet, and another with dark wine. He handed Mollie the water and she murmured a thanks before taking a long sip. 

There was nothing apart from the crackling wood and the occasional spurt of embers from the fire that pierced the quiet room. The silence that extended between them was driving Mollie mad and she felt as if she needed to address the silent tension in the room. 

Micah was sitting close enough to her to initiate a friendly conversation but still far enough to maintain a safe distance. He was staring into the fire, twirling the ring on his finger and Mollie watched how the light of the fire reflected in his eyes.

Mollie had remembered what Esperanza had told her only days ago about the Lyon family. More specifically, about Micah’s mother. If she died during childbirth, that must mean today….

She gulped and averted her gaze. 

She cleared her throat and attempted to ease the iciness she felt between them. 

“If it makes you feel any better, my mother used to mourn the day I was born.”

Mollie didn’t quite know why she was telling him this. Not only could he use this information to weaken her down, he may very well throw it in her face when he feels like it. But Mollie really couldn’t care in that moment. Half of her had been waiting for an opportunity to share her home life with someone…anyone. She had kept it within herself for so long, it was about time she addressed it. 

The fire danced off his thick caramel waves and Mollie watched as he turned his cold eyes toward her.

There was something dark and impenetrable within those pale eyes, a wall that Mollie suddenly felt determined to break down. She was beginning to peel through the various layers of the youngest prince and inching ever closer to his uncharted core. 

He was quiet for a long moment before he replied. 

“Why is that do you think?” 

Mollie was now the one who was uncomfortable and she had resorted to picking off the debris that had caught on the bottom of her now frayed black dress. She kept her gaze locked on her knees. 

“Because she suddenly had a responsibility…a responsibility she neither really wanted...or expected.” 

Mollie was leaving out some very big details but she had gotten the prince talking and she saw this as a success. 

“How unfortunate,” he murmured taking a sip from his wine. “Children are supposed to be a blessing, not a curse.” 

Mollie watched his movements carefully, the way he brushed a hand through his hair, the way he flexed his long pale fingers, and his constant stiff posture. Even in his relaxed state, he radiated elegance. 

“Where were you gone for so long?” she asked hesitantly. Her voice was muffled by the crackling fire but it added a comforting tone to the otherwise chilly room. 

Micah paused for a moment before he answered. 

“I had business to attend to in the North.” 

Mollie stifled an eyeroll and turned her gaze back to the fire. 

“So that’s your job in this family,” she asked tonelessly. “To execute business deals while the rest of your family smiles for the cameras.”

Mollie watched his head tilt ever so slightly forward. 

“Every person has a role to play in their family Mollie Mae.”

“Is that the role your father gave you?” 

Mollie was pushing it, and she didn’t fail to see how his eyes flashed when she mentioned his father. 

“You’re awfully curious aren’t you?” 

He wore an easy going smile on his face but Mollie could see the tenseness lining his features. 

“Do you blame me? I’ve been locked away in a tower for weeks.” 

Micah sighed and took another sip of his drink.

“According to Esperanza that was your choice. You are free to wander the grounds whenever you like.”

Now it was Mollie’s turn to sigh.

_With James Lyon on the loose that seemed highly unlikely._

“Esperanza _did_ take me through the gardens a couple days ago,” she admitted. “It’s very beautiful.” 

Micah nodded once.

“The grounds have been a part of this manor for centuries. The burial grounds of my ancestors are here.” 

Mollie acknowledged this but she couldn’t keep her wandering mind at bay.

“I didn’t see the late queen within the gardens…I would have thought she’d be there too.”

Micah’s cold eyes met hers and Mollie shivered under the intensity of his stare.

“She wouldn’t be.” His tone was dismissive and Mollie flinched. “Porphyria lies within the burial grounds of her own family blood line. Somewhere far away from here.” 

Mollie found it strange how he referred to the late queen in such bland terms. After all this woman was his mother.

“Has your family ever acknowledged that your birthday is the same day as her death day?” 

He reached out for a moment to sift the fire, his actions causing more embers so spit from the fire onto the ground in front of them. 

“Why should they?” 

Mollie could feel his eyes on her and she shifted uncomfortably on the plush rug. 

“As I told you before Mollie Mae, each family has their own anomalies…and by the sounds of it so do yours. Perhaps we are not so different.”

“You can’t compare our families _Master_ Lyon,” she replied with a frown. “You grew up with everything…you never wanted for anything. It’s not the same.”

There was a brief moment of silence that followed her words.

“I’m sorry that you think that,” he said tonelessly stirring his glass. 

Mollie scowled and returned her gaze to the fire. She had struggled, and began working before she turned eleven just to keep food on her table. She couldn’t help but feel bitterness at his words, he never knew what it was like to spend a single night without a full stomach. 

“You resent me.” 

Mollie met his eyes as he angled his body slightly towards her. 

“I could see it in your eyes the first time you looked at me.” His eyes seemed more liquid today, less frosty than she remembered. 

“Of course I do,” she responded swiftly. “Your family is the reason so many of us suffer each day. You thrive off the bloody backs of the poor. You promise social mobility and then create a system that indirectly prevents it.” 

Her breathing had increased and she could feel her anger being to surface.

“You created your empire on a foundation built upon false promises and blatant hypocrisy. It’s a wonder to me how you sleep at night.”

Mollie was expecting him to react or retaliate in some aggressive manner but if anything, he appeared even more relaxed than before. Although the charming smile remained on his lips she could see the iciness solidify in his eyes. 

“Those are some bold things to say to a member of the monarchy…let alone to royal blood.”

He chuckled after this and Mollie had to resist the urge to snap at him. 

“It’s a wonder how you’ve gone this long without a public punishment. You must be either incredibly fearless or incredibly stupid.” 

He suddenly brushed his hand across her cheek until his fingers held the bottom of her chin firmly between his fingers. 

His eyes flickered to her lips before meeting her eyes and Mollie stared ahead into those orbs of green, inflicting as much dislike in her eyes as she could muster. 

He smirked and gave her a little tap on the chin before dropping his hand. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured gracefully getting to his feet. 

He offered his hand to help her as any pampered gentleman would and she dutifully ignored it using the ground to propel herself upright. She could sense the smirk on the prince’s face as he led her around the corner into a small but tidy bedroom. 

There was a single large bed in the centre of the room and a surprisingly spacious washroom that extended just past the expansive closet. There was also a sizeable circular window above the bed bathing the room in early moonlight. 

“I’ll let you settle in,” Micah murmured. “But if you even think about trying to escape…”

He didn’t have to finish his threat before Mollie hastily shook her head. 

“You’re reputation precedes you Mollie Mae,” he murmured casually placing a hand on his trouser belt where his dagger hung loosely. “You’ve already broken my trust once... and against my mighty principles I still let you live.” 

His eyes hardened and Mollie shivered under his wintry glare.

“If you break it again-” 

“I won’t Master Lyon,” she said quietly. She had considered it when she first walked into the room but it would be have been a foolish attempt regardless. Not only was the window high, it was facing in the direction of the manor. On top of that, she could sense the threat Micah had put out was not to be taken lightly. 

She saw his features relax and she slowly released her breath.

"Good girl." He seemed pleased by her response.

A sharp pattering began to shake the walls around them and Mollie glanced around her worriedly. 

“It’s just the rain,” Micah said with smirk. “Yet another reason to stay indoors.” 

Mollie swore quietly after Micah left the room and angrily sat down on the bed. He hadn’t let her out of his sight since he had returned. Although she was grateful for the safety bestowed upon her by his presence, she needed an opportunity to get to Hartley Lyon’s chambers. It was her only way of escaping. 

She was hoping what the prince had intended to show her earlier would have been within the manor. 

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that Micah Lyon was taking her farther away from the things she wanted most.


	16. Soufre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie finds herself unable to escape the clutches of her captor.

She needed to earn Micah’s trust and quickly. He was the only thing keeping her safe from the rest of the gruesome Lyon clan. 

If she did anything tonight to piss him off she doubted she’d ever return to the manor… that is in one piece.

After Mollie freshened up, she found a pretty navy lace dress within the closet that fit her body type well. Mollie had begun to despise those flowing gowns Micah adored putting her in and preferred the shorter dresses that freed her legs and allowed her to remain more mobile. 

Mollie had grown up in a world that rewarded quick reflexes and instant retaliation and being confined within a stiff fitting gown was a direct constraint of those skills. 

When Mollie opened the door she was surprised to see Micah outside with a tray of food in his hands. 

“Room service,” he said with a charming smile that pronounced his deep dimples. 

Mollie felt her insides warm and for a moment she wanted to forget he was the prince of a tyrannical monarchy. 

He slipped past her at the door placing the tray gently onto the white linen of the bedsheets leaving the alluring scent of his cologne to waft in Mollie’s face. 

Mollie felt torn as she went to join the prince on the bed. She wanted to ask him questions, delve further into the history of the Lyon family and further into the true feelings he harboured for his family. But there was something telling her to wait…to not ruin the moment. 

As they ate together Mollie did her best to observe the various subtleties of the prince. The way he subconsciously brushed his hand through his hair or twirled the ring on his middle finger as he spoke. Mollie studied his face, and more importantly his features. The way he bit his lip slightly when he thought about something from the past, or the crooked smile that appeared on his face when he recalled a memory he was fond of. Unfortunately those memories seemed few and far between. 

He was truly exquisite, and Mollie wished desperately in that moment that his heart could have paralleled his beauty.

In this moment, she was not his subject and he was not her superior. He was not her captor and she was not his possession. He was not a prince and she was not a pauper.

They were simply two beings getting to know each other a little better and Mollie found deep comfort in that. 

Their conversation teetered on the edges of comfort and unnaturalness but neither of them ventured into the dark waters of their past or the ambiguity of their futures. Mollie told him about the bakery, and about her grandparents. They were the only pleasant memories of her childhood that she had. Most of the time he would ask her questions, but sometimes she would ask a few of her own. 

After their conversation died down, the rain picked up significantly and Mollie could physically feel the shaking of the cabin as the rain unleashed a torrent of water upon the small lodge. 

Mollie couldn’t help but steal glances outside the window and she felt her stomach churn at how menacing the manor looked in the distance. She couldn’t help but feel James Lyon’s eyes on her, his fingers penetrating through her tender folds, his predatory smile below his dark eyes. 

“Fawn?” 

Mollie’s eyes met Micah’s and she could see that familiar look of calculation cloud his features. 

“I’m sorry, the rain is putting me slightly on edge,” she mumbled unable to eat anything more.  
He didn’t say anything but stood up swiftly, and proceeded to place the tray on the table across from them. 

He was quiet for a moment, his back to her and Mollie wondered what was going through his mind. Had he sensed her unease? 

“Why did you come here Mollie Mae?”

His question caught her off guard and she looked at him from the bed completely bewildered.  
He turned around to look at her and she saw how his soft lips were parted in question. 

“It wasn’t by choice,” she said somewhat truthfully. He seemed to acknowledge that for a moment. He crossed his arms across his chest and observed her closely. 

“Are you happy you did?” 

She was at a loss for words at his question. She couldn’t tell him the true reason for her being here. Surely he would see it as a betrayal and have her executed. On the other hand, she found it difficult to lie to him. He seemed to already have a good hold on analysing her emotions and his placid expression did a number on influencing her subsequent actions.

He didn’t wait for a response, instead he crossed the room in a few strides and lowered himself onto the bed, closer to her than before. 

“I can make you happy you did,” he whispered brushing a soft finger across her cheek. “I can give you anything you ever wanted Mollie Mae.” 

The offer was almost impossible to resist as she stared into his clear green eyes, as vivid as the dense foliage that surrounded her hometown. 

“In exchange for what?” she whispered. The rain continued to patter outside and she watched as his eyes followed her every movement.

“Why must everything be a transaction?” he sighed. “Why can’t you view this as a proposition… an offering.” 

“Everything you do is a transaction,” she insisted. “Your brother made that very clear.”

She could see his eyebrows furrow and his gaze dropped to the bed in surprise for a moment. 

“My brother?” 

His tone went flat and Mollie could feel the tension build in the room. 

He slowly straightened his back and Mollie saw that familiar blank expression cross his face.  
He was staring at her hard and Mollie realized he was waiting for her to explain. 

“Your brother…showed me that room where you keep all of your prisoners,” she explained her face heating up at the unpleasant memory. “He told me he was always watching…” she trailed off as she saw Micah’s hands flex. 

“I’m not going to be your slut as he called it,” she blurted out, her eyes watering at the memory. “I don’t use that kind of currency.” 

_"I’m not my mother,"_ she thought bitterly. 

Micah had stilled and she noticed his eyes had glazed over slightly. The sudden chill in the air was palpable and Mollie wondered if he was even aware that she was still in the room. 

Mollie shifted on the bed and this seemed to bring him back to reality. His eyes snapped up and he slowly twirled the silver ring around his finger, his movements more conscious…more calculated. 

“I see.” 

His voice was as icy as his eyes and she felt as if his gaze was somewhere beyond her, extending into the darkness of the manor behind them. 

Mollie could sense the shift in the air and the evident change in Micah’s demeanour. He was back to the cold impassive prince she had grown accustomed to and she wondered if she had imagined his entirely contrasting personality only moments ago. 

A part of her wished for that Micah to return, but the other part of her, the stronger part of her, told her to speak her truth. She couldn’t digress, not when she had gotten this far. 

“James has always been… poor with words,” he started. “His bark is worse than his bite.”  
He gave her a smile, one that portrayed false ease and contentment. Mollie noticed how it didn’t quite reach his eyes. She had no doubt in her mind that Micah was simply concealing a more sinister truth about his eldest brother. 

“He said you didn’t…indulge in the same physical pursuits as him. Why would he say that?” 

Micah seemed irritated by this but Mollie persisted. “You don’t agree with this do you? You know how wrong this entire business is. You just won’t admit it.”

“That’s enough.”

His voice was a crack through the air and Mollie went silent instantly. His eyes were as cold and as distant as a corpse and the expression on his face made Mollie wanted to immediately dissipate from the room. 

“You don’t know anything about me or the businesses we run,” he said coldly his lips curling into a sneer. 

She shivered under his unforgiving gaze and put her head down. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

She had hoped, god she had hoped that she could get through to him. But her efforts were futile, they always were. 

He sighed and stood up running a hand through his hair. His waves had loosened to fall over his dark brow and Mollie could sense his agitation. 

He seemed unsure of something and Mollie watched as he walked to the wooden table across the room and poured himself a glass of whiskey. 

He turned around to look at her from the table as he held the glass containing the dark liquid in his hands.

“I need you to do something for me Mollie Mae.”

His voice was calm, too calm, especially after his outburst and Mollie was instantly on edge. 

“W-What do you want me to do?” she hesitated staring at him. 

His eyes were dark and utterly impassive as he held the whiskey in his hand. He hadn’t taken a single sip from it yet. 

“Lie down on the bed,” he said quietly.

Mollie froze and her hands began to sweat as she felt her nerves begin to set in. 

“Why?” she gulped as Micah’s eyes remain locked onto hers.

“Because I said so.” 

His tone never deviated despite the frostiness of his gaze but Mollie acquiesced. She was afraid of his abrupt change in demeanour. 

He had reached for something in the cabinet above the table and Mollie could see from the corner of her eye that he held something small in his hand. 

She laid her head on the white pillow and let her hair billow around her as she clenched her fists together and placed them on her torso. She tried to control her breathing as she felt the prince begin to walk towards her slowly.

His face was blank and Mollie squeezed her eyes tight. She felt the bed compress slightly as he sat down beside her. 

“Open your mouth.”

Despite the screaming chasm in her mind telling her not to do it, she slowly opened her mouth allowing herself to give into the prince’s demands. 

She felt something cool and solid hit her tongue and she sputtered in surprise. 

Maybe he really _had_ decided to poison her. 

“Shh,” he instructed bringing something else to her lips. “It won’t hurt you.”

Mollie choked as something bitter and slightly smoky filled her mouth. 

“Swallow it.” 

Mollie struggled but managed to push the tablet down her throat. The liquid he had given her burned on the way down just as much as it did when it entered her mouth. 

“Master Lyon what-?” 

He had begun to unbutton his black shirt and Mollie froze as she watched him expose his toned sun kissed torso. He was quite muscular and Mollie hadn’t noticed before due to the ample layers of clothing he was always wearing. His skin was smooth and pristine and Mollie felt as if she were watching one of the statues from the manor gardens come to life. 

Mollie squirmed as he reached for her dress and with a warning squeeze from his hand on her throat she stilled. His eyes were colder than the icy depths of the arctic and she began to breathe heavily as he slowly brought her forward. With ease, he unzipped her dress from behind and pulled the garment away from her skinny body.

He had seen her bare several times before but Mollie still felt a stab of embarrassment at her nudity. He had kept her panties on and she watched as he carefully, as if she were made of glass, brought his hands to her cheeks. His eyes didn’t flicker once to her exposed chest. 

“I’m going to be gentle with you Mollie,” he said, his vivid eyes glistening with sincerity. “I’m aware…you’ve never done this before.” 

Mollie couldn’t hide the fear that clouded her features and she shot Micah a pleading glance.

_Had he planned this the whole time? Had he lured her into a trap? Put on the charming façade as a ploy to simply coerce her into sex?_

“Master Lyon, please,” she gasped bringing her arms to her chest to cover her breasts. “I-I don’t want this.” 

She felt hurt and humiliated. But most of all she felt foolish for ever believing that he held a sliver of kindness to begin with.

His face remained unchanged but Mollie saw something more glisten within his pale eyes.

“One rarely gets what they want most from life Mollie Mae,” he whispered. “That’s what makes it so unfair.”

He brought his hands from her cheeks down to her breasts and cupped each one in his palms like he had before. His hands were like fire meeting gasoline against her skin and she felt the flames ignite as he thumbed her pebbled nipples. She squirmed in unfound pleasure at the sensation and hated the way her body reacted to his touch.

“Relax fawn,” he murmured against her throat as he trailed kisses down to her chest. “Tonight, I will serve _you_."

Mollie was enveloped by his rich scent, the citrus and musk making her normally clear mind a spiralling haze of delirium. The feeling of his lips on her skin sent tingles from the peaks of her nipples down to the tips of her toes and she moaned as his lips met the sensitive flesh of her breasts. 

She shouldn’t want this. She shouldn’t want to spread her legs before someone as loathsome as Micah Lyon.

She could feel the heavy weight of his manhood through his trousers as he leaned over her on the bed. He had brought her arms above her head and held them in place with one hand as he brought his other hand to her opposite breast. He was careful not to put too much of his weight on her.

His warm mouth had enveloped her left nipple leaving her breathless, while her other was pressed firmly between his fingers, the peak hardening at the sudden attention. 

“Mmm,” she moaned as she turned her head to the side and panted into the pillow behind her. She cursed internally as her body betrayed her. 

He sucked hard with his lips pulling her nipple upwards with the suction in his mouth and using his teeth to carefully graze the ultra sensitive skin. 

Mollie gasped as his other hand ventured lower, across her flat belly to her concealed lower lips. 

Mollie could sense by his confident movements that the prince had certainly pleased women before. He knew exactly what he was doing as he used his long fingers to gently probe her swollen lips through her panties. 

Unlike his brother, his fingers were soft and coated in her lubricant making the sensations that radiated through her more pleasant than anything. 

He continued sucking at her breast as he fluidly pulled her panties down her long legs in a single motion and dropped them to the ground. 

He released her breast from his mouth and trailed his lips down to her belly. 

His hands had released her arms from above and had slid downwards to hold her waist in place. Her hip bones jutted out prominently and he used his thumbs to massage the sharp edges of her waist in a circular manner, eliciting several sighs of pleasure from Mollie. 

His breathing had increased as well and Mollie could feel his lips begin to brush the top of her pubic area as he lowered his face between her legs. 

“M-Master Lyon,” she gasped fisting her hands in the sheets below her as his cool breath washed over her glistening mound. She wanted to stop him, to kick him away from her pure and untouched core but his foreplay had done a number on her body. She just couldn’t bring herself to release the firm hold he had on her body.

“Mmm,” he sighed as brushed his lips against her wet centre. “Your scent is so unique Mollie Mae. So…enticing.”

Mollie was visibly squirming at this point and Micah had his hands firmly on her thighs to keep her somewhat relaxed. Mollie also believed he held her in place to restrict her from “accidentally” kneeing him in the jaw. 

She sighed as he nipped her thigh playfully. 

“I can’t wait to _finally_ taste you.” 

With that he buried his face below her and sucked her hidden bud into his awaiting lips.

Mollie gasped at the feeling of his lips on such a sensitive area of her body. Her breathing was so loud she was almost embarrassed at the sound. Her moans reverberated across the room as if in competition with the thunderous rain that pattered against the low ceiling roof. 

She panted as his tongue entered her slowly, exploring its newfound territory. Mollie could feel the building climax deep within her lower abdomen and she couldn’t help the low moan that escaped her lips. 

“Master-,”

Her lower lips twitched at the foreign sensation as he used his tongue to open her folds wider and penetrate deeper. Mollie could practically feel the impulses of electricity that sent her bundle of hypersensitive nerves on a spiralling relay onto other parts of her body and she could feel the heat building up in her core. 

His teeth grazed her clitoris and she brought her hands from the bedsheets and fisted them into his soft wavy locks, pushing his head even closer to her most sensitive spot. He didn’t disappoint as he sucked her bud into his lips circling it with his warm tongue. He brought his fingers forward and massaged her outer lips as his tongue ventured as deep as he could explore, sliding against the slick pink walls of her untouched canal.

She could feel her juices dripping down her thighs and with one sharp spasm through her body she came hard, her scream several octaves higher than usual. 

_“Micah!”_ she gasped.

Her release was swift and Micah slowly released the firm hold he had on her thighs. She let them flop inwards, riding out the last few waves of her intense orgasm. 

Mollie had never felt a pleasure so deep and she finally understood her mother’s crippling addiction to this drug-like sensation. 

She was panting at this point, her thighs sticky with her vaginal juices and her knees quivering at the potent orgasm. A thin layer of perspiration had accumulated along her forehead and Mollie could feel strays of damp curls sticking against her forehead. 

She watched as the prince emerged from between her slick thighs, his chin wet with her lubricant and his pale eyes bright with exertion.

“You’re ready now,” he murmured as he began to unbuckle his trousers. Mollie watched through her climax- filled hazed as he dropped his pants and freed his manhood from his dark boxer briefs. 

Mollie had never seen the male organ in full unobstructed view before and she couldn’t help but stare in wonder at the long thick cock. The utter size of his manhood intimidated her and she couldn’t help but involuntarily close her legs at the sight of it. 

He shook his head in disapproval and angled himself on the bed so he was in line with her vagina. Mollie was sealed in his iron grip and no matter how much she writhed beneath him, he had her trapped. 

Micah shot her a charming crooked smile. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispered brushing his hands tenderly across her heaving bosom. 

He pushed her head back gently and enveloped her mouth with his own. She could taste herself against his lips and she could feel his hands cautiously creep up her ribcage stopping to gently thumb the underside of her breasts. 

Mollie’s head was spinning and the skin to skin contact of his hardness against her thighs was almost too much for her to take. She felt his hands slide down her body and cup one of her thighs from beneath her. With a light squeeze he brought her thigh forward and pulled it over his hip gaining a more suggestive angle and giving him better access to her most intimate area. 

Micah kissed Mollie, more softly this time as he once more pressed himself against her. He pulled Mollie’s leg more tightly around his hip angling his erection towards the desired location and met her eyes one last time. 

“It’s going to hurt you,” he whispered as Mollie writhed beneath him. “But only for a moment.”

Mollie felt his tip press against her as he began to inch his way past her slick walls, painfully slow. 

With one final grunt he buried himself within her in a single sharp thrust. Mollie’s scream was muffled into Micah’s bare shoulder. 

The pain was sharp and sudden and her walls ached as he sheathed himself fully inside her. 

Micah began to pepper her chest with kisses, along her neck, her jaw, her breasts.

Mollie believed he was trying to distract her from the tearing sensation but not even his promises or his gentleness could have prepared her for the sudden ripping pain that engulfed her lower body.

“Mollie Mae,” he groaned against her throat as he lay still for a moment, allowing her to accommodate his size. 

Mollie could feel the moisture accumulating in her eyes as the tears fell from her damp lids. 

He kissed the tears that fell down her cheeks before pulling out and pushing himself back into her. 

The pain had somewhat subsided and Mollie began to feel a familiar dull warmth spread through her vaginal walls as they fell into a regular rhythm. Mollie supported herself on the soft linen bed sheets as Micah tilted her hips slightly higher to hit a particularly tender spot deep within her. 

The sensation that was building inside of her was overwhelming and Mollie was beginning to feel the pleasures of their labour. The feeling left her raw and gasping for breath and she opened her legs wider to accept even more of his length within her. 

The intimacy of their union touched upon a part of Mollie she never knew existed and she sighed in pleasure as Micah buried his face within the thick curls of hair around her neck and pressed her sensitive bud with his thumb. 

Her walls clamped down hard and she screamed her pleasure as Micah groaned against her neck. With one final thrust and a sharp squeeze of her hips, Micah came. His torso jerked hard against her and she felt a rush of his hot liquid fill her quivering lower walls. 

He pumped within her several more times, emptying himself within the deep confines of her vagina before pulling himself from inside her. She felt the warm liquid of his pleasure trickle down her thighs and she shivered . 

Both of them were panting at this point and in a surprisingly loving gesture Micah flipped Mollie over so that she lay panting against his chest, his slowly softening penis pressing against her slick thighs. 

Mollie had caught a glimpse of the prince's back before he turned them over and failed to notice the blossoming purple bruises spread out along his back...had she done that?

His usually cold skin was blazing and Mollie collapsed against his warm chest as they both caught their breath. 

Mollie’s vision began to blur as she felt the heaviness of her lids begin to weigh down upon her. The prince was murmuring something in her ear but Mollie was too far gone to hear it. 

With the gentle stroking motions of his hand against her back and his warm body below her, Mollie pressed her sweaty face into Micah's hard chest and fell into a deep sleep, the repercussions of what she had just done melting away into the blanketing darkness that pulled her under.


	17. Chlore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A large info loaded chapter ahead. A lot more information about Mollie's situation is revealed and Mollie begins to get to know Micah on a more personal level.

It was the sharp knocking coming from outside the room that woke Mollie from her deep slumber.

She groaned as she woke, her muscles feeling like jelly. She felt a sharp pain between her legs as she stretched followed by a lasting soreness that radiated through her lower limbs. Her eyes snapped open when she remembered last night. Her eyes were met by a bright light that filled the entire room. She was alone in the large bed, the sheets wrinkled and tangled around her and the door to the room slightly ajar. 

He had taken her last night and she had allowed him to. Worse, she had taken pleasure in it. 

Her face felt hot as the memories came crashing down on her. She wrapped the white sheet around her body and made her way to the adjoining washroom. 

After a long shower under the hot water, Mollie slipped herself into a simple white dress from the dresser and managed to coax her tangled dark brown curls into a single neat plait down her shoulder. The dress was adorned with daisies and gave off a very youthful aura. It was a stark contrast from the more mature outfits Micah enjoyed picking out for her. Mollie found that she enjoyed challenging him, even if those challenges were as trivial as picking her own clothes and her own style.

She padded barefoot outside of the room and looked around. Had he left her alone? 

As if on cue the door to the cabin opened and the prince entered. Although he wore a simple white dress shirt and dark trousers he still managed to give off an air of authority when he entered the room.

“Good you’re up,” he said with an easy going smile. She watched as his eyes spanned the length of her body, zeroing in on the short dress she wore. She noticed how his eyes narrowed ever so slightly when he made it to her legs.

“Would you join me outside when you finish?”

He gestured to the food that lined the table and Mollie’s stomach rumbled when she saw the large array that had been set out. It was bright and sunny outside after a night of continuous rain and Mollie had never felt more well rested. It was almost as if the manor sucked the very life out of you the longer you stayed there. She felt as if she were re-energizing herself, and re-absorbing the strength she had lost after so many dreadful and sleepless nights.

Mollie nodded and watched as Micah left swiftly, the door softly closing behind him.

When Mollie finished her breakfast and ventured outside, she was met with the fresh scent of wet grass, clear blue skies and a soft ray of sunlight on the darkening Green. She closed her eyes for a moment and stood there imagining that she were beyond the mountains that bordered the Lyon regime. Surrounded by nature in its purest form, where business no longer mattered, money had no true value, and land had no true owner. 

The knocking began again and Mollie noticed a clean cut pathway leading to another small building beyond the cottage. She hadn’t noticed it before and the prince was nowhere in sight. The pathway of soil and mud was damp from the previous rainfall but Mollie didn’t mind as she made her way towards the property. It resembled a kind of barn and Mollie was surprised. She hadn’t expected a property like this one, on Lyon territory to be so…simple. It was out of character. Then again Mollie was learning new things about the Lyons every day.

“So you’re the little minx.” 

Mollie whirled around and scrambled backwards. That voice was so familiar. 

He stood tall and formal in a light grey waistcoat and tight form fitting pants. His dark hair was combed and teased lightly to give off a more relaxed vibe. He was not wearing his glasses and Mollie could see the resemblance to his brothers within his handsome features. 

“Rowan Lyon,” he said with a small bow. “You must be Mollie?” 

Mollie could only stand and stare, brown eyes meeting brown eyes. The last time she had seen him had been at that horrible dinner she was only too keen to erase from her memory. Her face flamed when the events of that night re-surfaced in her mind. 

He blinked and drew his gaze downwards towards her exposed legs and bare feet which were buried in the damp soil. Even if he was surprised, he did a remarkable job of concealing it. 

He seemed incredibly perceptive and Mollie couldn’t help but feel as if he knew something she didn’t. He was the academic after all. 

Rowan chuckled at her reaction. “You’re not supposed to look a royal directly in the eyes.” Mollie quickly dropped her gaze to the ground and shifted uncomfortably. 

_"Shit,"_ she thought. She should have known that. She now realized there was some truth behind Micah's words. He _did_ give her many liberties. 

Rowan still wore that easy going smile on his face but Mollie didn’t trust him. He was cut from the same cloth as his brothers and so far, their first impressions were not at the top of Mollie’s list.

He laughed again. “But I think we’re past that point though aren’t we.” 

He walked up towards Mollie and offered his arm out to her. “Take a walk with me?” 

He played the role of a prince beautifully and Mollie was on edge. With James, she knew where her place was and with Micah she could push the limits. With Rowan, she found herself in unchartered waters and this made her more nervous than anything. 

She nodded and shuffled towards him putting her thin arm through his long sleeved one. He seemed relaxed as they walked back towards the cottage. His polished black shoes squished on the wet grass as Mollie clumsily walked beside him. His strides were long and she struggled to keep up. 

“You seem to have caught my brothers eye.” 

His tone was conversational but Mollie could hear the tautness beneath his words. 

For some reason, the path seemed much longer on the way back than it did on the way there. 

“Which one?” she asked, her tone sour.

Rowan paused at her question before he chuckled lowly. 

“You tell me.” 

Mollie frowned.

“My brothers are quite the force of nature Mollie,” he said. “I personally find it entertaining when they go for each others throats, but our father is against it. He wants us to be one happy family. Isn’t that simply delightful?”

Mollie was surprised to hear this. Micah did not seem like the type to initiate a fight. She couldn’t imagine it. Although all the brothers were incredibly tall in height, James was an absolute monstrosity. Mollie guessed he must have been at _least_ six foot six. He towered over both of his brothers and she cringed thinking about lean and delicate Micah in combat with his brother. 

“I don’t think you’re aware of the rivalry between my brothers,” Rowan said with a wide grin. “The enmity that runs between them is unprecedented.”

Mollie was repulsed by the amusement on Rowan’s face. He seemed genuinely pleased at the animosity between his older and younger brother. Mollie had no siblings of her own but, she was under the impression that hatred was certainly not something that was commonly shared between siblings. 

There was a brief moment of silence as they continued down the florally decorated pathway. There was a soft carefree smile plastered on Rowan’s face as they walked and Mollie couldn’t help but think about how many horrible incidences that smile had witnessed. 

“Micah is not one to keep a slave of his own,” the prince said curiously. His eyes had flickered to Mollie’s. 

“So I’ve heard,” she muttered. 

Mollie could see the smile playing at the corners of his lips. He was enjoying seeing her squirm.

“I’m not going to lie I was curious. I was expecting something more… genteel… but consider myself underwhelmed.” 

Mollie ignored the insult. She didn’t consider herself “genteel” as he called it, and she certainly didn’t care about Rowan’s taste anyway. 

“I was under the impression women in general weren’t your type.” 

Mollie had seen him that day at the dinner table. His hand had been curled around another man’s hand beside him in an almost loving gesture. She also remembered the look of disgust on his face as she was courted by another female slave of the Lyons household. 

Rowan’s face froze for a moment, and as quickly as it appeared his face melted into a wide smile. 

“Ah. I bet you’re referring to Solanio, the charming dark haired fellow by my side.” 

Mollie didn’t answer. She felt the conversation had taken a somewhat insidious turn.

“He’s quite handsome don’t you think?” His arm tightened ever so slightly around Mollie’s and she hesitated. 

“I was so smitten with him the first time I laid my eyes on his. He has the kind of voice that puts you into a trance, the kind of lips that can suck a cock dry.” 

Mollie squirmed but Rowan held on tight. “But don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a woman now and again. There’s something so hypnotic about a woman’s body. The gentle curves, the flowing locks, the secretive slit.” 

Mollie’s breath had picked up as the prince launched into his escapade about women. His grip was tight, far too tight and Mollie felt like prey locked in the jaws of a predator as Rowan all but steered her toward the cottage. 

“Women are experts at inveigling the opposite sex. That’s why you keep them at a distance, you keep them subdued, and you keep them fucking satisfied.” His tone had taken on a harsher tone and Mollie could sense the layers of vindication that lay beneath. 

They were steps away from the cottage at this point and Rowan slowly dropped her arm to walk in front of her. He stood to face her, blocking her way to the door.

His height was high enough to block out the sun and his figure created a looming shadow in front of her, the sun like a halo surrounding him. 

“But I did not mean to divagate from the subject.” He chuckled for a moment. “Forgive me.”

His eyes zeroed in on Mollie and she dropped her gaze. He was testing her. 

“You’ve made quite a name for yourself since you’ve arrived here…and I commend you for that. But I sense that you lack full knowledge of the exigencies associated with the monarchy.”

“I’m a quick learner,” she replied tersely. 

“I don’t doubt that,” Rowan said with a sly smile. He looked like James when he did this and she shivered. “But I must warn you Mollie, your ties to this monarchy are now set in stone. You will never leave this place.” 

Mollie’s ears pricked and her hands began to sweat.

“You have no family, no friends, no real ties to Chartery, so I’ve been told.” 

Mollie looked at him, completely baffled. 

“That’s not true, I have my mother to support…my bakery to run-” 

Rowan smiled when he heard this and raised his hand to stop her.

“Those matters are trivial. Your mother on the other hand…your relationship is somewhat turbulent is it not?” 

Mollie was fuming. Had Micah told him? She had told the prince that in good faith. She should have known he would use it against her. She should have seen this coming. 

“She’s still my mother, and I can’t abandon her. You can’t keep me from her.” Her teeth were gritted and she was visibly shaking. 

“Oh but we can,” he said with a smile. 

He grasped his gloved hands together and looked at her closely, as if her were memorizing her every feature. His eyes flickered to the cottage for a moment before resting back on her eyes. It seemed as if he were re-thinking what he was going to say.

“How _are_ you and my brother getting along? I do hope I didn’t interrupt the... honeymoon.”

Mollie narrowed her eyes at the prince, her blood simmering. 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

She had never been more relieved to see Micah as he slowly but coolly appeared behind his brother, his posture stiff and his face impassive. 

“There you are,” he murmured looking at Mollie his eyes flickering to his brother. 

Rowan laughed and turned to glance at his younger brother.

“I like her,” he said with another chuckle. “I like her a lot.”

Micah’s face remained blank as Rowan continued his laughter. “Now I see why you’re so smitten Micah. I certainly wonder who’s dominating who in this relationship.”

Mollie cringed at Rowan. She almost found him more despicable than James…. _almost._

“Why are you here?” Micah asked glancing around them. “Where is Solanio?” 

Rowan sighed.

“There’s been a situation I’m afraid which demanded that I come find you at once. I’ve sent Solanio to help manage things in the West, he will arrive tomorrow.” 

Micah seemed tense and Mollie watched as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked sharply at Mollie and then briefly at his brother.

“We’ll discuss it inside,” he said quietly. In a flash he grabbed Mollie’s wrist and began to pull her behind him back toward the cottage. She yelped at his grip and stumbled as Rowan glided behind them, his dark eyes observing their interaction closely. 

“Wait in the hall,” Micah ordered releasing her wrist. She began to protest but the look Micah shot her made her silent at once. 

She turned away miserably and made her way around the corner, away from the Lyon’s. She waited until Micah had disappeared into the kitchen to silently retrace her steps. The two of them were talking quietly, Rowan with a severe look on his face and Micah appearing frustrated. 

“You can’t continue this Micah. He knows, he knows everything.”

Micah paced the small kitchen as Rowan continued his musing. 

“You can’t run away when things don’t work in your favour. You have a responsibility.”

“I’m aware.” 

Mollie cringed at the iciness in Micah’s tone. She had been on the receiving end of that tone one too many times. 

“What of the West?” Micah asked.

“Uncle is dead.”

There was a brief moment of silence and Mollie held her breath as she pressed herself even closer against the wall.

Rowan shook his head in annoyance. “The idiot had no progeny. His seat will remain empty until someone fills his spot. It’s absolute chaos there. I couldn’t wait to leave.”

“Someone needs to take charge,” Micah responded. “A vacancy is a sign of irresponsibility. The Insurgency will thrive on this. They'll indoctrinate the crowd, and turn them against what is best for them.” 

There was a slight pause as the brothers faced each other, a pregnant silence ensued and Mollie ventured closer, her heart in her throat and her hands as sweaty as ever. The Insurgency had spread to the West. This was certainly news to Mollie. 

“Father wants you to fill the spot.” 

Rowan looked rather smug and Mollie watched the anger darken Micah’s usually placid expression. 

“I have no inclination to travel to the West.” 

“That’s no longer your choice baby brother. With Uncle gone, the citizens are rebelling. The Insurgency is building there and they are set on igniting a rebellion.”

Micah swore and continued pacing, his features laced with stress. 

“That reckless bastard,” he muttered. “He ruined everything. _Everything."_

Rowan sighed and placed his palms on the table. “You don’t have an option. James left late last night...he’s all too willing to initiate.”

Micah glared at Rowan.

“I’m sure he is.”

They continued talking for quite some time, well into late afternoon about topics Mollie knew next to nothing about. Yet she continued her sleuthing and watched the exchange between them, trying her best to place the source of their issues.

“The gala is tomorrow Micah,” Rowan said as he straightened up and tightened the stiff collar around his pale neck. “You’re presence will be required.”

Micah looked away sharply. His gaze was drawn towards the wall where she stood and Mollie quickly laid herself flat, praying he didn’t see her. 

“You know how those events bore me Rowan. I have no interest in that kind of fraternization. That’s your area of expertise.” Micah’s tone was rather dry and she could just picture the frown etched across his features. 

Rowan scoffed. 

“The gala is being thrown in your honour. Your future wife will be there after all.”

Mollie listened carefully to this, making sure to tuck away this information into her mind. This gala might work in her favour. She may be able to escape…

“I’ll handle my own responsibilities. Thank you Rowan.”

Mollie had flattened herself against the wall at this point and waited for the door to shut. Quickly she scuttled forward into the hall and threw herself into the nearest chair, crossing her arms against her chest.

She glanced around the corner just in time to see Micah coming towards her, his features lined with fatigue and his lips turned downwards in a frown. 

“Is he gone?” Mollie asked innocently bringing her knees to her chin. Micah stared at her for a moment.

“Yes.” 

He stood in front of her, his finely pressed collar folded upwards and his hands resting lightly in his trouser pockets. Mollie watched as he slowly inched forward. His long riding boots didn’t make a sound as he crossed the wooden floors. 

“I know you heard everything.”

Mollie’s eyes snapped up but surprisingly Micah didn’t appear angry, in fact he looked rather amused. 

He took out that silver pocket watch he always kept with him and toyed with it in his fingers as he leaned across the wall in front of Mollie, a secretive smile on his face. 

“I do find it quite entertaining when you try to deceive me.” 

His eyes met hers and Mollie hated how he always stared at her with the utmost intensity. It was as if he were searching the depths of her mind and shuffling through her haphazard memories with the sole purpose of causing disarray. 

“There’s no need to hide anything from me Mollie,” he said softly closing the distance between them. Mollie curled her legs upward and leaned away from the prince as he sat down next to her in the velvet chair. He pretended not to notice and took her hand in his. 

His fingers were so soft, like malleable cake batter, and Mollie watched as he interlaced their fingers. His skin appeared so pale next to hers and Mollie found herself tracing the curves of his hands up to his wrists. 

“If you are honest with me Mollie, I will certainly return the favour.” He brought their hands up to his lips and planted a tender kiss against each of her fingers. 

_Honesty._

Mollie swallowed uneasily. Her very purpose for being here went against every law she could think of within the Lyon regime. Her dishonesty was the only thing keeping her alive. 

“I heard everything,” she told him as he breathed in the scent emanating from her wrists. 

“That’s a good start,” he murmured brushing his lips up towards the inside of her elbow and back to her wrist. He had moved his other hand to her knee and had slowly inched his hand up her exposed thighs. Her lower abdomen still ached from the night before and she squirmed nervously as his fingers inched closer to her sex.

“Your brother,” she blurted, desperate to shift the atmosphere. He continued trailing kisses along her wrist his eyes shielded by his caramel waves. He continued this circuit for quite some time before he decided to respond. 

“What about him?” 

His tone was curt but Mollie pressed on. 

“You two seem…to get along.” 

Micah’s eyes snapped up and Mollie could feel his grip tighten slightly. Questions about his family always seemed to trigger him and she knew she had to tread lightly. 

“What are you asking me Mollie Mae?” His tone held a note of amusement but Mollie knew better.

“I want to know about-” she hesitated as he once again stroked his pale fingers against her thighs. “I want to know more about you and your brothers.”

Mollie watched his expression carefully as he brought his gaze back to her. She couldn’t see any sort of danger within his expression, only pale impassive eyes within a cold sculpted face. 

“I see you had the pleasure of meeting my elder brother earlier,” he said quietly. He had removed his hand from her thigh and Mollie let out a silent sigh of relief. He had also dropped their arms but continued to interlock their fingers. “Rowan is a diligent member of our family, and I trust his judgment wholeheartedly.” He paused for moment before continuing. “It was Rowan’s idea to invest in solar energy to provide electricity to the cities of the South. He took into account the climate, the population density, and of course the efficiency of the system. He plans to implement this same system in the East, if the climate permits that is. ” 

Mollie listened intently. She had heard about this new phenomenon within the news back home. Solar energy as a clean renewable source of power. It was an ingenious idea but also incredibly expensive. 

“Who’s in charge of funding and managing such a grand project?” she asked. Micah smiled at her and continued rubbing his thumb against the inside of her palm in a surprisingly comforting gesture. 

“I am.” Mollie looked sharply at him as he continued speaking.

“Revenue comes in many forms, from our partners overseas and of course from taxpayers dollars.” 

“Partners overseas?” Mollie asked with a questioning look. 

“Imports and exports,” he replied tersely. Mollie winced. She knew exactly what kind of imports and exports they were doing. Mollie truly had no idea of the magnitude of this business, of exactly how much money the Lyons made behind closed doors, particularly from their trafficking alone. 

“Those underground businesses are amoral,” she mumbled. 

“Business is amoral Mollie Mae,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s the first rule of economics I’m afraid.” 

“And what about James?” she asked. 

Mollie didn’t fail to notice his how lips tightened when she said his name. Mollie swore the hall had gone even more silent and Micah had stopped his circular motions on her palm with his thumb. It was as if the very mention of his brother was enough to freeze the entire room solid. 

“I was unaware you two were on a first name basis.”

His tone was flat and Mollie’s spine stiffened as she realized her mistake.

“I didn’t-,” she started as Micah’s eyes darkened before her. “That was a mistake,” she whispered as Micah’s face took on that dead lifeless look. God she _hated_ when he stared at her like that. 

He leaned in close to her, his eyes burning holes into her own. 

“The only thing you need to know about James, is that he is next in line as leader of this monarchy and as of today, crowned sovereign of the West.” 

His tone was as lifeless as his eyes and Mollie felt her stomach clench in fear. For a moment, Mollie thought he was going to hit her, or perhaps punish her but he simply sighed and a brushed a hand through his thick locks. 

"My uncle... he was killed by members of the Insurgency early this morning on his regular commute to his Estate."

Mollie felt uneasy at Micah’s words. James gaining more power sounded like a disaster waiting to happen and she couldn’t help but feel as if Micah knew this. There was a veil in his eyes whenever the topic transitioned to politics and Mollie could see the blatant hostility within them at even the slightest mention of his eldest brother. He didn't seem too upset about the passing of his uncle but she could see the venom in his eyes when he mentioned the Insurgency. She shifted uneasily in her seat as her hands began to sweat. 

"How do you know the Insurgency was responsible?" she asked innocently. 

Micah laughed humourlessly at her question and she bit her lip in fear. "Because it was messy. A complete massacre. Only the Insurgency would come up with an idea as barbaric and as self crippling as that."

"What did they do?"

Her heart was pounding and she could hear the blood rushing through her ears. Micah's eyes flashed to hers. 

"Anthrax," he said curling his lip in disgust. "Seems to be their new preferred weapon of choice. 

Mollie suddenly felt horribly ill and she hastily brought her knees up to her chin to rest her uneasy stomach. 

"It wiped out everyone in the area. Women, children..." Micah trailed off and she could hear the raw disgust in his tone. "All for one man."

Mollie couldn't help the shiver that went down her spine. She had hidden her vial of anthrax somewhere within the grand hall of the Questershire Manor weeks ago...well before the prince had captured her.

_Where had she hidden it?_

Mollie felt sick to her stomach. She knew the Insurgency were radical with their ideas, but she had no idea of the true extent to which they would go to achieve their goals. Mollie felt more confused and more betrayed than ever. There was no reason for the prince to lie. She knew Caleb had sent her on this mission for a purpose and she felt as if time was running out. She remembered Caleb's words in her mind.

_"If you fail Mollie, we'll be forced to intervene...I want that entire Lyon bloodline wiped out."_

She hadn't had any kind of interaction with any members of the Insurgency since she was whisked away by the prince months ago and she began to fear the worst. Without contact they had no idea of Mollie's progress...whether she was still even alive. Then again, the prince was never supposed to take notice her...he was never supposed to know primary status and bakery owner Mollie Mayeson ever even existed.

Mollie trembled as Micah’s eyes zeroed in on her exposed legs. Her thoughts were in complete disarray but she couldn't reveal anything to Micah, not even the slightest inkling that she had ties to the Insurgency. She stiffened as he once again brushed his palms against her thighs. 

“You know fawn," he murmured sliding his fingers along Mollie's exposed skin. "I appreciate your…unique… sense of style, but do dress more appropriately when in the presence of others.” 

She frowned as Micah brought his hand to her cheek and traced her bottom lip with this thumb.

“I’ll have Esperanza send the tailor in for you. She’ll make you anything you want…seeing as its appropriate of course.” 

She bit her lip as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning over her face.

“You’ll be perfect,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to see how you’ll look in green.” 

Mollie squeezed her eyes tight as he leaned in for a quick peck on her lips. She hated how he treated her like his life sized mannequin to doll up and parade around the house for his family to see. It was not in Mollie’s nature to be so docile but she had no choice but to play the part of the meek obedient slave. 

“Come Mollie Mae,” he said lifting her gently to her feet. “You haven’t eaten since this morning.” 

***

Mollie watched the prince in silence. She was seated across the kitchen counter from Micah as he expertly navigated himself around the kitchen. She was surprised by how comfortable he seemed in this environment and found herself watching how gracefully he moved from one countertop to the next as he laid out a beautiful platter for them to enjoy. She would have thought a prince would never have needed to know how to find his way around a kitchen. Wasn’t that what servants were for?

“Enjoying the view?” 

Mollie blinked out of her reverie to see Micah looking at her from across the counter, a crooked smile on his face as he rolled his sleeves up. She hadn’t realized she had been staring so overtly. Her newly acquired information about the Insurgency was bothering her and she couldn't seem to push it to the back of her mind. 

The prince had a somewhat boyish smirk on his face and for a second she forgot he was the same cold hearted prince of one of the most powerful empires in the country.

She was tempted to say something snarky back but he was in a good mood and she planned on keeping it that way. 

“I’m just wondering why you look like so comfortable around the kitchen.”

Micah laughed at this and she dropped her gaze to the food in front of her. Mollie had grown up surrounded by luxury foods and was more than familiar with the art of baking. She could instantly tell when a person was comfortable in their skin around the kitchen and Micah certainly appeared that way.

“I spent a lot of time in the kitchen as a child,” he said with a soft smile. “There’s a bit of an age gap between my brothers and I, around ten years.” Mollie watched his movements as he filled the aged kettle on the counter with water from the sink and set the machine boiling. The gurgling sound of bubbling water filled the quaint kitchen. It was such an informal and domestic thing to do Mollie was still wrapping her head around it. 

“I was too young to train with my brothers at the time, so Esperanza would take care of me while she completed her duties. She spent most of her time here with me. When my father deemed I was old enough to begin my training, I began to spend more of my time away from the manor, preferring to travel for business and establish connections with neighbouring cities.” He paused as the kettle elicited a high pitched screech indicating the water had reached boiling temperature. He swiftly grabbed two porcelain mugs and proceeded to pour the hot tea into each, his eyes fixed on his work. 

“I guess I learned a thing or two during my time here and it stuck with me.” He flashed Mollie a dazzling smile. He gingerly pushed the tea towards Mollie and she held the mug in her hands, letting the heat dissipating from the mug warm her fingers.

Although the prince seemed honest in his answer, she didn’t quite believe that was the full reason for him being so comfortable in the kitchen. She had noticed how careful and calculated Micah’s movements were, even that day he had dined with her in the parlour. Mollie found it odd how he didn’t touch a morsel of food from the table. It was almost as if he was mistrusting of everyone around him; so mistrusting that he preferred to do even the most tedious of tasks himself, including meal preparations and something as simple as making tea. 

She said nothing as he sat across from her gesturing for her to begin eating. She carefully picked a piece of soft bread from the table and dipped it into the swirling liquid of fresh olive oil mixed with balsamic. Mollie brought the bread to her mouth and let the savoury flavours enrich her tastebuds. Mollie chewed thoughtfully as the prince brought his mug to his lips, taking a small sip from the scorching liquid. 

Mollie swallowed and met the prince’s gaze, his pale eyes giving off an aura of their own. 

“This is sourdough bread,” she said quietly picking up another piece in her hand. Micah’s gaze dropped to the food and then back to her in a second. 

“And?” 

“It didn’t rise enough,” she murmured looking at the other pieces on the plate. “Can you see how flat it is?”

She picked up a piece in her hand and observed it closely.

“The dough wasn’t kneaded enough between rises. This limits the ability of the yeast to penetrate through the different layers of the dough.” She flips the piece over in her hand observing the inward deflation of the crust. “Therefore, the only food source available to them is the flour that lays on the surface. When that supply is depleted the yeast can’t flourish and then the dough sinks...” 

Micah was quiet as he listened to her. Mollie realized she had been musing and she quietly put the bread down. She could feel her cheeks heating up. She doubted the prince even cared about something so inconsequential. 

“You miss it,” he said quietly. 

Mollie sighed. She didn’t want to talk about the bakery, it was still too painful. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled turning her face away. The memories of her bakery seemed like lifetimes ago at this point and she couldn’t bring herself to think about it. She wondered if it was still even in business. 

“A passion is not something trivial fawn,” he murmured leaning closer to Mollie across the table. “It’s something to be celebrated, something to put on display for the world to see.” He was leaning over the counter at this point and Mollie could see the desire within his eyes.  
“I can see your passion Mollie Mae,” he whispered. His pink lips had curved into a charming smile and Mollie found herself pressed to her seat. His lips were inches away from her own and she could feel his breath against her lips as he stared adoringly into her brown eyes. “I could see it the very first day I laid my eyes on you.” 

Mollie could practically smell the arousal in the air and she shivered as the prince brought his cool hand to her flaming cheek. 

“Kiss me Mollie,” he whispered. “Show me how much passion you have to give.” Mollie’s face was all hot and she couldn’t bring herself to match the prince’s profound stare. His eyes seemed to smoulder before her and she hated how his words made her insides crumble with fear and desire all at once. 

“Master Lyon please,” she whispered as his hand ghosted down to her neck. She felt Micah’s hand close around her throat and she swallowed in fear as he began to increase the pressure. 

“Then please,” he responded pressing his fingers firmly into her pulse point eliciting a sharp gasp from Mollie. Mollie could sense the looming threat and quickly brought her head forward towards the youngest Lyon. Swallowing her fear she pushed herself up onto the smooth counter and carefully pressed her lips against the prince’s. 

His lips were surprisingly cool against her own and Mollie could hear him groan as he deepened the kiss. With a speed she didn’t see coming, he pushed the plate of food off the counter in a single fluid motion and lifted her onto the counter, pinning her below his hard muscled body. 

The platter fell to the ground with a clattering bang and Mollie squealed as he pushed her against the cool granite of the counter. She gasped as her head hit the granite and his lips met hers for a second time. He was more forceful this time, allowing his arousal to consume him as he entwined his tongue with hers, forcing her mouth open. 

She felt his hands slide her thin straps down and she twisted beneath him. 

“Master Lyon, I can’t,” she gasped as he pulled the dress off of her body leaving her in nothing but her thin panties. “Please don’t.” She was terrified that he would penetrate her. Her vaginal canal was still tender and aching from the previous night and she feared the worst as he held her tight. 

“Shh,” he whispered as he trailed his lips over her breasts. “Focus on the pleasure Mollie and the pain will subside.” Her nipples had hardened in the chilly air and she could do nothing but gasp as Micah used his tongue to tantalize her most sensitive areas and leave her moaning in unwanted bliss. 

She could feel him laugh against her chest as he brought his fingers down to her soaking slit, his fingers probing through her damp panties. 

“Already so wet for me,” he whispered nipping her left breast playfully. “In time, you will learn to enjoy this.” Mollie closed her eyes as tightly as she could as Micah rid himself of his snowy white dress shirt. “And I promise you here and now, that I will always strive to put your pleasure before mine… that is if you become mine.” 

Mollie could do nothing but moan as he ripped her panties from her legs and bared her slit to the cool air. 

She moaned as his fingers slid through her wet entrance, his fingertips massaging the inside of her tender canal. She bit down hard on her lip as his fingers twisted within her spasming pussy. Mollie whined as he removed his fingers from her clenching insides, her arousal drenching his fingers and leaking onto the smooth granite table.

Mollie could see the pale moonlight streaming in through the high ceilinged window in the kitchen and she watched as it illuminated the light blond streaks buried within the prince’s tousled waves. She could feel his rapid breaths against her throat as he dropped his trousers and positioned himself at her slick entrance. 

Mollie focused her vision on the crescent moon through the window and imagined she were somewhere far away from where she was, beyond the mountains, and past the treacherous cliffs of the Questershire Manor.

She gasped as the prince slipped something hard and solid through her trembling lips. Mollie had figured this was some sort of pregnancy preventing pill and she eagerly swallowed it down. The last thing she needed in her situation was to end up carrying an illegitimate child...let alone an illegitimate heir to the Lyon Regime.

She knew what was coming next, or rather, she _felt_ what was coming next. With her eyes fixed on the thin crescent shaped moon shining through the kitchen window and with one last desperate groan from her burning lips, Mollie felt the prince penetrate through her delicate petals, his sighs of pleasure filling her ringing ears. Mollie stared at the moon in the sky through the high ceilinged window letting the pale moonlight wash over her heaving body as Micah writhed deep within her. Their moans were the only sound in the otherwise silent cabin, entwining together like their molded shadows reflected on the silvery backsplash of the kitchen wall, and dully illuminated by the slowly dissipating moonlight.


	18. Argon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The annual White Ball takes place and the monarchy is in dire need of bureaucratic adjustments.

The ride back to the manor was a quick and silent one. As usual, Micah was absent when Mollie had woken up and she was immediately loaded into a carriage and taken back to the manor as soon as she was ready.

Mollie was a deep sleeper. Her mother used to swear her growing up for her inattentiveness throughout the night , especially when there was commotion outside the apartment, which happened to be every other day. It was no wonder Micah was able to enter and leave the room so easily without her knowing. 

Mollie was taken straight to what she had now deemed “her quarters” after the short commute to the manor and she was happy to see the familiar wrinkled face of Esperanza waiting for her inside. The woman seemed genuinely pleased to see Mollie but she had an apprehensive almost nervous tone to her features. 

She clicked her tongue in disapproval when Mollie freed her rebellious curls from the messy bun she was so fond of sporting. 

“What you need is a good grooming,” she said sharply hastily unbuttoning the pretty mint green dress that had been chosen for Mollie to wear. Mollie had bristled when she saw the handwritten parchment note waiting for her atop the dresser that morning in slanted and painfully elegant calligraphy.

 _Wear this._

She could just imagine the expression that would be on his face as he uttered those words. 

Esperanza continued to cluck in disapproval as she expertly peeled the dress from Mollie’s thin body. Mollie yelped as the chilly air hit her and she involuntary brought her hands to her chest to cover her breasts. Esperanza rolled her eyes and ushered Mollie into the huge white luxurious washroom.

“Master Lyon has asked me to prepare you for the gala tonight,” she explained placing her weathered hands on Mollie’s shoulders and pushing her into the steaming tub. Mollie spluttered as the old woman pushed her head under water. “And it looks like this is going to take _much_ longer than I originally anticipated.”

***

By the time Mollie was finished she was utterly exhausted. She had been shaved in every place she could possibly think of and her skin felt smooth and soft to the touch. Her hair had been blow dried and styled into loose curls, and her makeup applied to accentuate her large doe eyes. When Mollie’s eyes landed on the dress in front of her she found herself cringing. 

“I can’t wear that,” she whispered staring at the rich expensive material before her. Esperanza waved her off. 

“You will wear whatever Master Lyon sees fit.” Mollie gulped as Esperanza steered her towards the long flowing crisp white gown. Mollie avoided wearing white…for a multitude of reasons.

“Why must it be white?” Mollie muttered as the delicate bodice was fitted onto her breasts and the pearl buttons were fastened at the back. 

“It is the White Ball tonight,” Esperanza replied tightening the corset around her waist until Mollie gasped in pain. 

“The White Ball?” she managed to ask in between spurted breaths. The dress was extremely tight around the waist and Mollie was already struggling to breathe in deep breaths.

“Yes,” Esperanza said as she circled to Mollie’s front to style her hair. “It’s tradition. A grand gala is held at the Questershire Manor and everybody wears white. It happens at the end of every January.” 

Mollie felt her stomach flop after hearing this. 

_The end of January._

That must mean she had been at the Questershire Manor for a little over three months already. She was supposed to have been home and back at the bakery after only two weeks.

“Stop your fidgeting child,” she said sternly twisting Mollie’s small waist in one direction then the other. ”You’ll crease the dress.”

Mollie sulked as Esperanza saw to every little detail around her from her cleanly shaven underarms to her daintily pinned curls. Mollie was never one to indulge in her looks, she couldn’t have even if she wanted to, her mother hated having mirrors in the house.

Esperanza sighed as she came to stand in front of Mollie. She looked a bit taken aback but then she smiled and Mollie saw the warm motherly figure she was used to seeing in the older woman. 

“You look breath-taking,” she said quietly clasping her hands together. “I’m afraid the prince won’t be able to keep himself away from you.”

Mollie frowned when she heard this as the woman carefully went to the dresser to retrieve 2 long elegant silk gloves. 

_“For now,”_ Mollie thought sourly as the lightweight gloves were slid onto her slender arms. _“Until he gets tired of me and ships me off to some remote location never to be seen again.”_

“You must be quite the special one for the prince to create a custom made gown for you,” Esperanza murmured.

Mollie turned her gaze to the old woman.

“I’m assuming I’m not the first?” Mollie asked more harshly than she intended. The women quickly dropped her eyes and took a step away from Mollie.

Mollie could see the secrets that swirled within the cloudy eyes of the older woman and she despised how reticent the woman was. Surely she understood Mollie’s plight? 

Esperanza sighed. “It’s not my business to say.” Mollie watched the old woman’s features as she struggled to express herself. She seemed conflicted and Mollie intended on using that brief moment of vulnerability to her advantage.

“Why me?” she pressed as Esperanza shuffled towards the dresser. “What does he want from me? What could I possibly give him that he doesn’t already have?”

Esperanza shot Mollie a frigid glare. 

“I’ve told you this before child and I’ll tell you again. You’re ideas of who…of what occurs within this monarchy are seriously misinformed.”

Mollie stared back unabashedly. 

“This monarchy doesn’t just revolve around one person making the rules and enforcing it. It goes through many levels of government and oftentimes the end result is the same…nothing much changes.” 

Mollie could hear the slight bitterness in the woman’s tone. 

“Yet it is always the person currently in power who bears the brunt of the public disapproval and has to face the consequences of their predecessor’s mistakes.”

Mollie was quiet as she stood uncomfortably in the middle of her room, in the long flowing white gown that was so artfully chosen for her tall figure. She watched as several emotions flitted across the older woman’s face as she continued to speak.

“Despite what you may think, young Master Lyon is not the real enemy here. In fact, it is quite the opposite.” 

Esperanza had proceeded to seat herself on the edge of Mollie’s bed and Mollie watched as those sad eyes re-visited one of the many dark memories of her past.

“There have been many commoners to come and go from this manor. Very few leave, and far fewer last.” Her eyes flickered to Mollie.

“I’ve been here a long time child, and never have I seen a slave last more than 24 hours with the youngest Lyon.” 

Mollie felt her blood run cold. It made sense now why her presence sparked so much attention…so much controversy. 

“Last?” Mollie asked quietly. “What do you mean?”

Esperanza sighed. 

“Young Master Lyon doesn’t keep slaves for himself.” She glanced at Mollie and gave her a withering stare. 

“Or so I thought.” 

Mollie felt her face flush. 

“He sends them away immediately. Off to the East, the North, wherever their work is required. He manages the business sector of this monarchy after all…and he doesn’t like to mix business with pleasure.”

Mollie listened intently. She was beginning to piece the puzzles together as she listened to Esperanza speak.

“These slaves…” she started ignoring the pressure of the corset on her waist, “they’re trained aren’t they? They’re taught how to please.” There were rumours that circulated every now and again amongst the commonfolk. Of underground slave tunnels and artful torture chambers of civilians who disobeyed the laws. Most of it was laughed off but Mollie knew there was always a little bit of truth behind a joke that ominous. 

Mollie could see the slight sadness in Esperanza’s features. Mollie believed it was a woman’s secret power to sense another women’s pain, even if it was only for a brief moment. 

“Yes. They are trained. Slaves of the palace are a high commodity as they are so well-disciplined and are expertly taught the art of pleasing a man. They teach them early…the earlier the better.”

Mollie felt her stomach lurch. She could only think about wide brown eyed Zeta and the future that lay before her. Mollie couldn’t bring herself to fathom it.

“He knew,” she whispered suddenly. Her corset was really impairing her breathing and she twisted herself uncomfortably in an attempt to loosen the firm compression of the material on her waist. “He knew I wasn’t a slave the first time he came to see to me.”

Mollie’s voice was a low whisper as she recounted her memories of Micah, the way he had bathed her, inspected her, fingered her…

He had known since then and unfortunately for Mollie his eldest brother was now aware of this too. 

Esperanza stared at her in confusion as Mollie quickly breathed in more air. She felt herself grow increasingly hotter in the stuffy room. 

“Is she ready?” 

His voice echoed down the hall and Mollie watched as Esperanza leaped to her feet and bowed her head in respect. Mollie watched as the prince appeared beneath the arched doorway and she couldn’t help but stare.

He was dressed in a crisp snow white tuxedo that in addition to his combed and styled hair made him appear more angelic than anything. The suit contrasted sharply with his dark locks making his sun kissed skin appear as smooth as a sheen of ice in the dim light and his eyes as bright as Polaris within the blanket of a night sky. 

_“A devil disguised as an angel,”_ Mollie thought dryly. 

His dark locks were growing long and Mollie observed how they curled upward beneath his ears. Mollie watched his lips curve into a cool appraising smile as his pale eyes locked on hers. He was truly the real life version of the prince from a child’s fantasies with his charming smile, his handsome features, and his tall authoritative stance. But there was something lurking behind those eyes, something as dark and as tumultuous as midnight oil that threatened to spoil that picture perfect image in her mind.

“You are a sight to see Mollie Mae,” he said softly stepping into the room and extending his arm to her. Esperanza quickly bowed and shuffled out of the room leaving the two of them alone. Mollie watched her go with frustration. She was tired of the old woman’s secretive ways.

Mollie looked away from the prince’s clear intense stare. She couldn’t bring herself to look into those eyes and lose herself to the man standing before her. He would be the death of her, both literally and figuratively. He shifted as he stood in front of her using his glove covered fingers to brush her heated cheeks. Mollie could hear the prince hum as he stepped closer to nuzzle her neck. 

“People will be so curious about you Mollie,” he whispered against her blazing skin. “You are not to respond to any of their…inquiries .”

Mollie stepped back as the prince opened his eyes, the irises like two precious emerald gems before her.

“You’ll follow my every move and wait by my side for the duration of the night like the obedient escort I taught you to be.” Mollie kept her gaze directed downwards. “This is an important night for all of us with guests from cities across the regime joining us for the event. It must go perfectly.” His tone had become progressively more severe and as Mollie glanced up, she could see the frostiness in his eyes. “I know you won’t disappoint me Mollie,” he breathed bringing his hand to her throat.

Mollie was slowly realizing that Micah enjoyed doing this to her. It was his way of exerting his dominance over her. The thin scar around her neck was there to stay and she felt the prince brush his gloved fingers over the puckered line that circled her throat. His cologne filled her nostrils as he leaned in to delicately plant a kiss on her exposed neck. 

“You’ve proven yourself to be somewhat precarious Mollie Mae.” His tone had shifted and Mollie watched as he stepped back to firmly grasp her silk covered hand against his own. Mollie could picture in her mind the coolness of his skin against her blazing one and for a moment she yearned for that contact. 

“I can’t afford any mistakes from you tonight. If you do anything to displease me or any of our guests…you will be punished and I cannot help you.” 

Mollie nodded stiffly as Micah regarded her closely. 

“I won’t Master Lyon.” It took every ounce of self control for Mollie to utter those words as meekly and as quietly as she did. Mollie wouldn’t dream of doing anything at the gala, it was far too risky. 

He smiled and brought his thumb to her lip. 

“Re-apply your lipstick Mollie,” he said sternly before leading her out the door. “Poorly applied lipstick is a reprehensible _faux pas_.”

***

Mollie could hear the clinking of glasses and the continuous murmur of chatter through the grand ballroom of the Lyon Manor. She was ordered to stand behind the prince and play the part of his shadow as the night went on. She knew the rules.

_No speaking to the prince unless he addresses you directly_

_No speaking to other members of the event without consent from the prince himself_

_No eating or drinking at the event unless the prince allows for it_

_No scowling. It is unbecoming of a woman._

Out of all the rules she had been forced to learn, the no scowling would be the hardest for Mollie to accomplish. She was not the warmest. She never had been. Even when she finally gained ownership of the bakery after her grandparents passed, her frigid exterior was a known trait amongst her colleagues.

“Prince Micah,” a guard murmured as they stood outside the ballroom. Mollie could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she stood behind the youngest Lyon, her eyes facing his stiff back. 

With a single step backward, the guard bowed deeply before opening the door with a firm push. 

The first thing Mollie noticed was the humungous chandelier that hung in the middle of the grand ballroom. _No._ Mollie gazed upward and noticed there were _three_ that hung in the middle of the room with the centre one being the grandest and the largest. Each golden arch of the ornament was adorned with thousands of little crystals that lined the circular piece like precious pearls. She gulped when she saw what appeared to be thousands of eyes turn their gaze to her. 

Mollie could feel her cheeks flare and she prayed she wouldn’t stumble in her long gown and her thin stiletto heels. The heels rested uncomfortably on her stitches and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t shake the itchy throbbing feeling it elicited on her lower ankle. The resounding hush that echoed through the room when the prince entered was inescapable and Mollie could hear the whispers and coughs that ensued as the guests parted for the prince. The guests were dressed extravagantly and Mollie noticed how the women blushed and curtsied and the men tipped their hats or nodded their heads in respect as Micah passed them by. It was quite a sight to see, with everyone wearing white amongst the gold and red interior of the ballroom. Out of the corner of her eye Mollie could see a painter with his stand before him. His brushes were clutched in his hands as he worked hard on the canvas in front of him to depict the incredible visuals that lay before him. 

She looked up to see an elevated stage where two gem encrusted seats were placed. Above the thrones was an enormous painting of the King himself surrounded by his three sons. Mollie could see the photo must have been taken quite a few years back as Hartley hadn’t yet sported his peppered grey hair. Rather, he had his dark locks combed and parted neatly to display his hard and handsome features. He was seated on the same throne that lay below the painting, with his right hand clutching a large ornate sceptre embedded with emeralds, amethysts, and numerous other precious jewels. The top of the sceptre held the infamous lion insignia, the head of the creature installed with a huge intricately cut ruby for each eye. His other hand lay neatly on his lap clutching several scrolls of parchment. To his right stood a much younger James slightly behind the throne of his father and with that same plastered smile he wore for the cameras. Rowan stood to the right of his father his smile less wide than his elder brother and his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Mollie was drawn to the young boy standing to the left of his father, a small silver pocket watch clutched in his left hand and his other hand resting lightly on the arm rest of his father’s throne. He looked no more than fifteen with his youthful features and rosy cheeks. Mollie noticed how luminescent his eyes appeared in comparison to his brothers. Those pale eyes were impossible to miss, even within the various colours soaked into the canvas of the painting. Despite his youth Micah still wore that cold emotionless expression on his face that Mollie had grown accustomed to. Apart from his father’s thin line of a mouth Micah was the only one in the portrait who appeared unsmiling.

As Mollie turned her gaze to the opposite wall she saw many more paintings that lined the grand ballroom with each subsequent portrait appearing more aged and cracked than the last. Mollie quickly realized each painting was a traditional family portrait of the Lyon family over several generations. Above the arched entrance to the ballroom and between the two gold plated columns of the entryway was a massive photo of a beautiful woman. 

_The late queen._

There was no mistaking those large dark brown eyes and that long slender nose that lay upon her diamond shaped face. Her chestnut locks were parted in the centre and tied back into an intricate up-do with two thick strands to frame her pretty face. Her expression was relaxed and peaceful and Mollie could see traces of James and Rowan within her sharp features. But no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t seem to find a trace of Micah within her. Perhaps the lips?

Mollie struggled to follow Micah as he promptly navigated his way through the throngs of guests in white to make his way towards the front of the stage. He stopped just short of the wide stairs that led to the elevated platform and Mollie watched as he gracefully sunk to one knee. Confused, Mollie directed her gaze upwards to the stage where two previously unoccupied seats now held a single individual. 

Mollie felt her stomach drop when she saw who occupied the throne on the left. She had seen him in person only once before, that night in the dining room with his sons. She had never seen him after that anywhere in the castle and Micah had never mentioned him. She was familiar with Hartley from the news, the press, and the media. It was impossible not to be, he was the most powerful man in the entire region extending from the Cincinnity city in the west to the Ophian River in the east. However, what was truly remarkable about Hartley Lyon, was his ability to radically transform the monarchy once appointed as official ruler. He was young when he rose to power and yet he accomplished what the previous Lyon monarchy could never do. He turned the monarchy from a government institution that enforced the rules, into a monopolizing empire exerting his influence on not only authoritarian figures, but businessmen and economists alike. 

Hartley sat cool and collected before his guests, his dark emotionless eyes staring straight ahead as a brief moment of silence overcame the room. Hartley was one of those men that commanded attention just by his domineering presence alone. Mollie quickly followed the actions of the other guests and, rather clumsily in her long gown, brought her knee towards the cold marble floor. She recognized that same slim sculpted nose on his face and could see Micah had taken that prominent feature from his father. 

“Good evening to all.”

His voice was so deep and so commanding Mollie felt as if it penetrated through her very bones. Immediately people began to rise to their feet as Hartley scanned the crowd before him. He wore a silvery white three piece suit and a silver lined white ascot around his throat. In true Lyon fashion, he wore silky white gloves that extended all the way to his forearms. 

“Tonight is a celebration as much as it is an adversity,” he continued as a brief murmur rippled through the crowd. “Many might interpret this statement as an inherent paradox, but I beg to differ.” He spoke so smoothly and charismatically Mollie was truly in awe. She had heard James’s speeches many times on the news at home, but not even he came close to the resonating tone and echoing vigour that emanated from his father’s lips. 

Mollie had never felt any inclination to attend any one of the Lyon’s notoriously famous speeches growing up. Chartery was a fairly divided state from an economic point of view and far from a popular hub. Mollie’s home was directly in the centre of Chartery, inching closer toward the Northern part of the city known for its lower class citizens. The divide between those who supported the Lyon monarchy and those that didn’t was quite apparent in Chartery and Mollie was situated in an area where there was a thorough mix of both. 

Mollie always found it rather strange how the Lyon’s always made a point of visiting these small dispersed cities within the regime such as Chartery. Mollie would have guessed they would visit only the capital cities as they were more densely populated and were allocated with more resources than the less developed cities. Someone had once told Mollie growing up, that the Lyon’s put in the effort to visit these small cities as a publicity stunt. In reality, they only visited the wealthy parts of these cities in an effort to maintain their affluent supporters while turning a blind eye to the rest of the citizens. Despite the huge imbalance in numbers between the rich and the poor, the Lyons still managed to assert their power over each and every city within the Lyon regime. 

Mollie blinked as Hartley continued to address his guests. The more Mollie watched his impeccably rehearsed movements, the more unsettled she became. Everything he said and did appeared so cultivated…so…practiced. It was the most unnatural thing. 

His voice radiated throughout the hall and Mollie watched as the guests glued their eyes onto their King, their faces full of respect and unabashed admiration.

“There can be no happiness without sadness just as there can be no rich without poor. They are simply two entities existing on polar opposite ends of one another, just as the north is to the south and the sun is to the moon. Our businesses, this monarchy is no different. In order for us to win… there have to be people who are willing to lose.” 

Many guests raised their glasses of rose champagne in the air as Hartley delivered his speech. If Mollie didn’t know any better, she would have assumed he was preparing for something big…something grand. 

Hartley continued speaking, delving into his time as ruler of the monarchy and paying his respects to the people for their support and their trust.

Mollie was in awe as Hartley regarded the crowd. He acted as if they truly _did_ choose him to be their ruler and he was _grateful_ for their support. Mollie was utterly bewildered. 

“I also want to pay my respects to my friend, my confidant, my brother….Logan Lyon.”

Mollie’s head snapped up when she heard this. She would never forget the look in Logan Lyon’s eyes as he watched Mollie from across the long dining table. He had those dark blue eyes, like the murky depths of a polluted ocean. She had remembered the look on Hartley’s face as he observed Logan. It was far from the look one would bestow upon someone they regarded as their friend.

Mollie had suspected he was related to the Lyon’s but his blond hair had thrown her off. She assumed he was a close partner or some close business connection.

He was their uncle…he was the one who had died. Mollie bit her lip in concern. The Insurgency had proven themselves to be quite strong to have accomplished this feat. It’s no wonder Hartley had gathered his posse of rich executives and totalitarian enforcers to this event. It was certainly not for a “celebration” as he had put it. He had plans to implement. He needed the power to be close to him at this time of vulnerability. And he certainly needed to make some big changes to how things were going to effectuate from here on out. 

“The rebels in the West have killed their leader, my brother, and have wreaked irreparable havoc across various cities in the West. They killed our citizens, our women who work so hard to keep this population thriving, our men who work day in and day out to sustain their families and our thriving economy.”

He paused after this, as if in harrowing sorrow.

“And our children. Our leaders of tomorrow, who were so horrifically robbed of their promising futures.”

The only sounds that filled the room were the chilling words of Hartley Lyon’s speech as he pressed on. Mollie noted how skilfully Hartley was able to feed continuous lies into the ears of his guests. Not only did he adopt a rather ingenious ethos approach by challenging the methods of the Insurgency, he incorporated aspects of the logos and pathos in perfect combinations to gratuitously achieve the rhetorical triangle of persuasion.

“The safety of our citizens is my utmost priority in this time of grievance and change.” Mollie noticed how he always remained standing during his speech and he never dropped eye contact with the people before him. It was as if addressing people was second nature to him. 

“And when change occurs we must adapt to these changes in parallel approaches.” He paused after this and a prolonged hush fell over the crowd. “As my closest partners in business… in friendship…in life. I am telling you all now, that in this time of vast political unrest and turmoil, a more forward approach in this monarchy is required bureaucratically...and economically.”

Suddenly the crowd began to mutter in hushed whispers. There were several gasps of surprise from the women and many questioning stares as people looked around them. Mollie kept her gaze fixed on Micah who appeared rather bored. She glanced to the corner of her eye to see Rowan speaking quietly with a tall handsome man by his side. Rowan appeared rather placid as he placed his hand gently on the shoulder of the man beside him. The man to his right had his raven tresses brushed into a neat demure ponytail and Mollie recognized him from that dinner she had attended several weeks ago. That must have been the infamous Solanio. 

As her eyes brushed past the two of them she made eye contact with her least favourite person on the planet. Beside him in a white silk gown with a flowing train was his red headed escort, her long flowing red locks coiled on her head in a fancy elegant style. Her gloved hand was clutched on top of James, almost as if she were keeping him in check. She wondered how she could possibly manage having a partner with a heart so black and vile. James had a smug almost satisfied smirk on his face and he gave Mollie a chilling smile when they met stares. The girl turned her head away as quickly as she could manage. 

“Leaving no bloodline to carry on his legacy, it is with pride that I elect his majesty James Gallus Demetrius Lyon to succeed his uncle as ruler of the West.” 

There was a grand applause from the crowd and several more toasts as James nodded his head in acknowledgment, his face transforming into the calm charming façade of a kind and courteous prince. Mollie watched as the men nodded in respect to the newly appointed King of the West and the women gazed adoringly at their new leader. Mollie turned her head away in disgust. 

Hartley swiftly raised his hands to silence the crowd and immediately the noise slowly dissolved into silence. 

“I put great trust in my sons to carry on this legacy and fulfil their duties to this monarchy to the best of their ability.” Mollie looked up in confusion when she heard Hartley’s words. 

_Sons?_

There were several cheers and clinks of glasses as Hartley smiled at his guests. Mollie looked over to Micah who seemed to purposefully be avoiding eye contact. She kept wondering why Hartley wasn’t exiting the stage. He appeared to be finished delivering his speech.

With an ever so delicate tilt of his head she saw the current King of the Lyon Regime tilt his head down towards Mollie and she felt her insides freeze solid. 

_Why would he look this way…unless…_

“To finish off this delightful night, I would like all of you to stand and give a toast to your new CEO of Lyon Enterprises…my clever and incredibly gifted youngest son….his majesty, Micah Zacharias Lyon.”


	19. Potassium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie questions Micah's attitude and Micah retaliates. Mollie gets an opportunity she hasn't had since her first days at the manor.

Mollie was certainly not the only one in shock.

The guests had gone silent…completely silent and Mollie watched as the youngest prince snapped his head up and looked into the eyes of his father. The surprise lasted for only a millisecond before a frigid impassiveness overtook Micah’s features. 

Mollie held her breath as their stare-down continued for an extended period of time. Micah’s face was as blank as ever but his eyes seemed to quiver in suppressed emotion as he regarded his father who stared back with the same strength and vigour that he had expertly maintained since the early parts of the evening. It was almost as if he was challenging his son…daring him to retaliate. 

Quite abruptly Micah stood up and turned around to face the crowd behind him. The shock was still on many faces but several guests seemed to have gotten over their brief moment of surprise and slowly began to clap. Mollie turned her gaze towards Hartley who wore a placid smile on his face. Mollie noticed how his eyes never strayed from Micah. It unnerved her completely. Hartley slowly brought his hands together and began to clap. Many got the message and joined in, some more hesitantly than others. 

“The coronation shall take place in three weeks time,” Hartley said as the murmurs began to start up again. “It would be my honour to witness my sons take over these duties and pursue their destinies, and continue on our prosperous legacy.” 

Quickly he reached beside him where a single glass of dark wine lay within a holder in his throne.

“To the throne,” he bellowed raising his goblet to the air.

“To the throne!” the crowd echoed. 

Mollie didn’t miss the pure poorly concealed venom that oozed from James Lyon’s emotionless stare. The woman beside him smiled at onlookers elegantly but Mollie could see her thin fingers were imperceptibly shaking as she dug them into her escorts arm.

Immediately the crowd began to disperse and swarm around the Lyons as many rushed to congratulate Micah and his brother. Mollie struggled to follow behind Micah as he made a beeline for his brother Rowan who appeared to be the only Lyon with a genuine smile on his face. 

Mollie was confined to the edges of the stage as people began to cheer and celebrate around her and she looked around her in a panic. 

“Are you alright?” 

Mollie whirled around at the sound emanating so close to her and came face to face with a petite and attractive blond. Her dress was ruffled and strapless and featured a daring slit to show off her pale milky legs. Mollie found the dress quite flirtatious and she wondered who this girl was. It was rare to see a female at a party without an escort. Mollie could immediately tell she was of Quarternary status based on her style, her dress choice, and her snooty aura. 

“Fine,” Mollie said brusquely dismissing her. She neither had the time nor desire to converse with the guests. 

Mollie suddenly felt a smooth invasive hand on her shoulder that with surprising force twisted her back around.

“I wasn’t finished.” 

The girl’s previously sweet demeanour dissipated and was replaced with a cold unforgiving glare that annoyed Mollie instantly. 

“I noticed you entered the ballroom with the prince. What is your affiliation with him?”

Mollie couldn’t help but stare at the girl. Was she being serious?

“Why do you want to know?” Mollie responded with the same iciness in her tone that the girl had addressed her with. 

The blonde girl gave Mollie an incredulous look which quickly transitioned into undisguised contempt.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” she sniffed narrowing her blue eyes. “Do you not know who I am?”

Mollie had to suppress the laugh that threatened to escape her lips. She reminded Mollie of the pretentious upper class females who stayed at home all day painting their nails and feeding their babies while their husbands worked. Phoebe and her used to make fun of them all the time growing up. Never did she think she would come face to face with one. 

“Should I?” Mollie asked. Ironically, Mollie had to tilt her head downwards to address the girl and she didn’t miss how the blonde girls face flushed red after hearing Mollie’s question.

“Ladies ladies, do I sense a cat fight brewing?” 

Mollie looked up into the amused eyes of Rowan Lyon. 

“Prince Rowan,” the blonde girl said quickly sliding into a well-practiced curtsey. Mollie barely stifled an eyeroll. 

Rowan chuckled as he observed the young women before him. 

“Lady Tamzin,” he said with a nod. He turned towards Mollie with that amused smirk on his face. “And the still so prickly Miss Mayeson.” His eyes scanned her body through his glasses and Mollie could see the way his eyes widened in surprise at the expensive garment adorning her figure. 

He paused for a moment looking between the two women and then directed his gaze back to Mollie.

“It pleases me to see you opted on wearing some shoes tonight,” he said dryly.

Mollie sighed.  


“How…quaint… it is for me to find the two of you… conversing. Are introductions in order?”

Mollie wanted nothing more than to leave this conversation behind her but she was obligated to stay put. She couldn’t even see Micah anymore and she dreaded to think of what would happen should she be found alone without an escort. 

He turned towards Mollie. 

“This here is Lady Tamzin Menestratten of the Eastern peninsula in Devonis.”

The girl named Tamzin maintained her frosty glare directed at Mollie and this only seemed to further spur the prince on. 

“And this is Mollie. Mollie Mayeson of…?” He trailed off looking at Mollie with a curious gleam in his eye.

“Chartery,” she mumbled suppressing a sigh. 

“Oh dear,” Rowan said with a chuckle. “How unfortunate.”

The little blonde girl giggled and Mollie wanted nothing more than to ring her dainty little neck. 

Rowan turned to the blonde girl swiftly, his eyes hard. 

“Miss Mollie here has been keeping my little brother quite busy these past few weeks.” 

Immediately, like a snowflake hitting an ocean, the smile was wiped off her pale face. 

“Come Miss Mayeson,” he said holding his arm out. “Micah must be wondering where you ran off to. He’s told me you’re quite the volatile one.” 

Mollie was too grateful to leave the disaster of a conversation behind her and grabbed the middle Lyon’s arm quickly leaving the fuming blonde in the ballroom as they left towards a door on the opposite side of the opulent room.

“Correct me if I’m wrong Mollie, but I was under the impression you were forbidden from speaking to any of the guests,” Rowan drawled as several guests in close proximity shot them apprehensive stares. 

“She spoke to _me_ ,” Mollie argued as Rowan dragged her along. 

“I’m _sure_ ,” he said rather cattily.

Mollie turned her head away from Rowan and what she saw next nearly made her heart stop.  


He was standing straight like the rest of the guards lining the wall, his uniform pressed, the lion insignia gleaming against his left breast and his eyes glued to the opposite wall.  


She saw his eyes flicker to her once than away then straight back to her as recognition and shock clouded his features. 

_Isaac._

Mollie couldn’t help but feel an overbearing sense of relief to see that he was alright. A million emotions flitted across his face and Mollie noticed that he had inched forward ever so slightly. His mouth was hanging open and Mollie shot him a pleading glance as she was forced to keep up with the long strides of Rowan Lyon. She could do nothing but follow the prince as she walked straight past his gaping face and further along the dark hallway.

As they turned the corner and into a small concealed room space she saw the familiar towering frame of James Lyon, his expression one of absolute lividity. Thankfully, it was not directed at her. Micah stood still as an ice sculpture as his brother fumed before him, his expression blank and his body language as frosty as ever. 

“Ah,” Rowan said pleasantly as if his siblings were not glaring daggers at each other. “Good to see everyone is present.” Mollie was frozen to the spot as James and Micah continued their deathly stare-down. It was as if she wasn’t even in the room. 

James turned towards Rowan and Mollie watched how his lip curled in anger. 

“Did you have anything to do with this?” he hissed jabbing a finger at Rowan.

Rowan still wore that placid smile on his face. He seemed undisturbed by his elder brother’s ferocious actions. 

“If I remember correctly, my name was _not_ called on that podium…hence the benefit was _not_ in my favour so I would suspect any involvement on my part would be close to null.” 

James leered at Rowan as Micah remained still. His eyes never left James. 

“Don’t be coy Rowan. I was given very strict instructions and I intend to carry out every last one of them. Irrespective of my new position,” he added. 

“Marvelous!” Rowan said with a smile. Mollie was lost as the conversation ventured further into the unknown. She wondered if their frostiness had anything to do with Micah’s new role within the monarchy. She would make a note to ask him later…if he would indulge her. 

“Had I a glass in my hand I would have toasted to that. But seeing as there is neither wine or whiskey in this dusty excuse of a room and seeing as my other arm is currently occupied I’ll simply say congratulations.” 

Mollie cringed as James shot his brother a look of utter distaste. He then turned his gaze back to Micah and curled his lips into a false smile, venom lining his features.

“I believe the congratulations are in order for Micah. He is after all our new CEO of the business, the youngest one ever might I add.” James chuckled humourlessly as Micah stood still. Mollie wondered how he maintained his composure as his brother loomed over him. “I’m sure the citizens will be thrilled to entertain the novel ideas coming from a whimsical twenty three year old prince.” 

_"Twenty three,"_ Mollie thought. He was only four years older than her. Mollie suspected he was somewhat younger than his brothers, but she didn’t expect him to be _that_ much younger. He appeared so much older when he spoke. She remembered what Micah had told her about the large age gap between himself and his brothers. It must have been at least ten years…James was in his thirties. It made sense now why so many of the guests were rendered speechless by Micah’s new position of power. 

Mollie watched as James brought his hand forward to cup his younger brother’s face in his palm. 

“But you can handle it right?” he whispered squeezing hard enough to flush Micah’s cheeks. “Take it from me. Running a business venture is as easy as… shelling peanuts.” He grinned after this as if enjoying some undisclosed joke. “I’m sure everything will go swimmingly for you. Father always said you had a mind quicker than a bolt of lightning.” Mollie watched in trepidation as Micah met James’ eyes and for the first time ever she could see the uncontrolled ferocity within those pale orbs. She had _never_ seen him look at anybody like that before. 

With one last predatory smile at his youngest brother, James left the room letting the door creak loudly as he disappeared around the corner. Mollie realized she had been holding her breath since James had first leaned over Micah and she quickly released it, letting her shoulders relax.

“Micah,” Rowan said sharply turning to his youngest brother. “This one looks like she’s had it for the rest of the night,” he said giving Mollie’s arm a light squeeze. On cue, Mollie stumbled gripping Rowan’s arm even tighter to keep herself balanced. God she _hated_ stilettos. Rowan shot her a rather dull look. “Unfortunately her relationship with shoes still appears to be somewhat problematic. I’d skip the dancing with this one if I were you.” 

Micah seemed rather preoccupied but he nodded at his brother. 

“We’ll take our leave.”

As if she were an expedited parcel Rowan brought Mollie forward so Micah could replace his brother’s arm with his own. 

“Will you be returning to the party?” Rowan asked a secretive smile on his face. “I’m sure there are numerous guests waiting to exchange a word or two with their new CEO.” 

“Should I?” Micah asked shooting his brother a smirk as he gingerly led Mollie out of the room. 

Rowan laughed, his voice echoing through halls. 

“No brother. Most certainly _not_.”

***

Mollie’s ankles were throbbing by the time the prince and her returned to the upper landing and Mollie desperately wished this manor had some sort of lift system in place to avoid the stairs. 

Micah was leading her down an unfamiliar corridor and she followed him silently, taking in her surroundings. Everything was dark here with the torchlights that lined the walls providing the only source of illumination amongst the foreboding ambiance. Mollie had realized that she had never ventured into this part of the manor before. Mollie suspected her room was somewhere in the West wing but the lack of windows in her quarters made it difficult to confirm. As they rounded a corner she was surprised to see several guards lining the walls. She watched as they bowed deeply when they spotted the prince.

“Master Lyon,” the closest one said straightening from his bow. “Your presence is required in the parlour.” 

Mollie noticed how all of them were men. She also wondered why five guards were needed to relay a simple message. They seemed on edge… Mollie noted the glinting armour that adorned their shoulders and realized there was a distinction between the common guard and the royal guard. The common guards wore a more traditional attire equipped with silk and cloth lining. These were royal guards and not only did they sport the insignia bearing uniform, they were adorned with precious metal and badges to represent their rank. 

Micah paused as he addressed the guard who had spoken. Micah matched his stare icily and tilted his head upwards in a motion of dominance. He towered over them despite his youth and he had a stony expression etched across his features. 

“I’m afraid I have other needs to attend to tonight.” 

Mollie saw his face tilt towards her slightly and she felt her stomach flip. 

Micah made a move to step forward and Mollie was surprised to see the guard block his advances. 

“My apologies Master Lyon but this meeting is not optional. As head of Lyon Enterprises it is your duty to report to these assigned meetings whenever the rest of the executives deem it necessary. Surely you are aware of the written statues associated with this position and the responsibility it entails...” 

Even Mollie could hear the poorly concealed scepticism laced within the guards tone and she quickly looked at the expression on the other guards faces. They all looked uncomfortable and when she looked at the prince she soon realized why. 

Micah’s eyes had zeroed in on the guard in front of him and when Mollie looked at his expression her blood turned to ice.

In a flash the prince had the guard on his knees as he whipped his beloved dagger from his belt only to aim the sharpened material towards the guards unprepared face. 

Mollie couldn’t help but scream as the prince swung and retracted his arm in seconds, the guard sinking to his knees with a blood curling scream as rivulets of blood pooled to the floor. Mollie heaved as she looked at the bloody hole that now remained on the side of the guards face. 

Micah had an impassive disinterested expression as he looked down at the sobbing guard in front of him. The guards hands fruitlessly cupped the empty socket where his right eye had previously been as the blood flowed and the tendons flapped across his cheek. 

Mollie watched in horror as the prince bent down slowly so that his eyes were in level with the screaming guard in front of him. 

“Last time I checked the statues, it claimed a CEO may re-schedule a meeting whenever he sees fit as long as it falls within 48 hours of the previously established one.” 

His voice was a chilling whisper amidst the sobbing cries of the guard and Mollie struggled to subdue her nausea as the prince brought his blade forward towards the guards bloodied face.

Mollie could barely swallow as she looked at the round glistening eyeball that protruded from the end of the knife. The long wet tendons hung loosely around the scarlet tinged blade and Mollie could see the dead blank cloudy iris that had once been a vibrant blue now appearing as a sickly milky grey. 

She retched in the corner as Micah looked coldly at the whimpering guard. 

“Either you are unfamiliar with the rules of this monarchy or your perception of the statues are highly misconstrued.” 

The prince’s murmur was a calm eerie sound as the guard before him swore and whimpered and struggled to balance on his knees. The other guards held their heads down, avoiding eye contact with the prince as they stood quietly behind their comrade.

“Your eyes deceived you this time Lucio. Perhaps you’ll take more care in using the only other one you have left.”

Mollie had witnessed many public punishments growing up, but most of the time it had been fingers, toes or a the common whipping now and then. But this…she had no words.

She had clutched the wall and struggled to steady herself. For the first time, Mollie was thankful she had an empty stomach or she surely would have emptied its entire contents onto the cold wooden floor.

She watched as Micah used the silk cloth of the guards uniform to wipe his dagger clean. He then carelessly dropped the grey eyeball onto the hard floor with a splat. 

Without another word he grabbed Mollie harshly and walked her down the hall and past the other guards who wordlessly granted him access as their comrade continued to howl in pain. 

Mollie was cold and shivering by the time they made it to a quiet upstairs landing. Everything here seemed more grand… more ornate. 

The prince opened a large heavy door that slowly creaked open and Mollie winced as the sound echoed through the silent spacious landing. 

Her eyelashes were wet with unshed tears and her forehead sweaty from her traumatic experience. She couldn’t get the image of the guard out of her head and all over again she felt the nausea twist in her stomach.

Micah seemed unperturbed and she stood still as he held the door open. 

“In.” 

His tone said it all and Mollie quickly shuffled forwards. 

When the door shut behind them Mollie felt Micah take her arm in his. He was far gentler with her now than he was in the hallway and she struggled to control her breathing as he led her towards a midnight blue chaise on the opposite end of the room. 

If Mollie hadn’t been so shaken she would have marvelled at the beauty of the interior design of the room. The room was huge, much larger than Mollie’s quarters, and the walls were painted deep blues and deep greys conveying a very melancholic aura. Apart from the four poster bed and the ornate dresser, the room was mostly empty space and Mollie felt nervous just being inside of it. It was too neat and too untouched to the point of being unnatural. Mollie noticed there was pale moonlight filtering in through some large French glass windows that led to a rounded balcony. 

Mollie watched as Micah quietly lit the candles that were placed along the walls allowing the hazy yellow light to brighten up the blanketed room. 

Micah’s white suit displayed not a single drop or stain and Mollie wondered how this was even remotely possible given the gruesome events that had just occurred. He had lightly tossed his dark blood soaked gloves onto the top of the dresser before walking over to Mollie. 

“Are you alright?” he asked observing her closely. 

Mollie looked back at him frigidly. 

“What the hell do you think?” 

Mollie saw him frown and she quickly realized her mistake.

“Watch your tone with me Mollie Mae,” he said sternly. 

“Or what?” Mollie asked harshly. “You’ll take my eye out too?”

Micah stared expressionlessly back at her and she worried for a moment whether she had angered him. Instead, a rather thoughtful look spread across his face and a secretive smile played along his pink lips. 

“No Mollie,” he said slowly, seemingly amused by her question. “I wouldn’t take your eye out. Even if I did, you certainly wouldn’t use the other one any better than you did with both.” 

Mollie shot him a withering glare and he matched her gaze with a crooked smile. 

“You know why Mollie Mae?” 

He sat down softly beside her and she shivered as he began to run his long fingers through her thick curls. He was quiet for a long time. The only sounds that echoed across the room was the whistling wind through the half open doors leading to the balcony.

“Because you lack insight. You dismiss the world as bluntly as one dismisses the face of a stranger.” 

“I do not!” she said hotly glaring at the prince. He simply continued staring at her with that same playful smile across his lips. 

The prince’s motions were comforting as he threaded his fingers through her thick strands but Mollie still couldn’t escape the vivid images of the violence that had just occurred moments ago. Micah seemed to have dismissed those events so quickly…yet he had the nerve to tell _her_ that she was blunt. 

“You were the epitome of perfection tonight,” he whispered bring his lips close to her ear. “The guests couldn’t keep their eyes off of you.” 

Mollie stifled an eyeroll. 

“That wasn’t the reason for their stares Master Lyon,” she replied tersely. “Or should I say Mr. CEO.”

Her tone was caustic and by the stiffening of the prince beside her she knew she had touched a nerve.

Angrily he pulled her hair sharply eliciting a gasp of pain from Mollie as he brought her face close to his own. 

She trembled as his hard eyes pierced hers and she saw the angry frown that laced his features. 

“Actually Mollie Mae, if we are keeping up with formalities, it would be _President_ Micah Lyon to you.” 

His grip was hard with intention of inflicting pain but Mollie swallowed the pain reverberating around her scalp. In spite of his change in mood, Mollie had come to a confirmation that had been bothering her since the ball earlier that night. The prince was not pleased with his promotion. She could see the fire in his eyes when she brought it up. 

“Well then congratulations,” she all but sneered as he pushed her harshly backwards. 

“Save it,” he snapped.

He turned his gaze away from her and Mollie watched as he slowly flexed and unflexed his fingers. He seemed to be trying his best to keep himself restrained and Mollie observed him closely.

The whole conversation was incredibly childish but Mollie couldn’t help herself. Something about Micah set her blood boiling but she knew…somehow she knew there was a barrier with her Micah refused to cross, even when he was incredibly cross with her. He afforded her many liberties, too many for her to still have been alive to this day. 

The sound of ringing bells and loud cheering erupted from the floor beneath them and Mollie watched the prince’s reaction. 

His face was blank his posture stiffened as the noises below them only increased in frequency. She heard Micah sigh and watched as he stood up and smoothed down his white tuxedo. He seemed irritated and Mollie wondered why he suddenly felt the need to leave and attend to his business. 

Mollie regarded him bleakly as he glanced up at her from beneath his loose tousled waves. 

“I won’t be long.” He looked around the room for a moment before matching Mollie’s eye once again. “Feel free to make yourself at home. No one will disturb you as long as you remain in here.”

“Wait Master-,” she called before trailing off. She wasn’t sure whether he was serious about the whole formality thing and she quickly bit her lip. “…what if someone comes inside… I mean why can’t I go to my old room?”

He half smiled at her question as he took one final glance around the room. 

“This is my room. No one will disturb you. You have my word.” 

His tone was a stark change from his previous one and Mollie nodded as he silently opened the door. Mollie could have guessed from the meticulous setup and tasteful interior of the room that it was his. Not to mention, like his face, it too seemed cold and utterly expressionless. 

Mollie had waited until his footsteps had faded away to slowly rise from the chaise in the corner and make her way to the door. This was too good an opportunity to miss, especially with all the Lyons occupied with their guests downstairs. Mollie couldn't let this moment escape her. 

As silently as she could muster, she opened the door and slipped outside letting the flickering torches lining the hallway illuminate the long corridor. 

***

Mollie had been running in circles. 

She was confused and disoriented and the more twists and turns she completed the more lost she seemed to be. She had arrived right back outside the heavy arched double doors of Micah Lyons chambers and she cursed at her rotten luck. In a huff she pulled off her ridiculous stilettos and sunk down against the rough stone wall. 

“All of these corridors look the same!” she muttered. The tight corset fitted on the interior of her dress certainly didn’t help Mollie’s situation and Mollie found herself stopping more often than not to catch her breath due to her dress. As Mollie leaned her head against the lone side table she had passed 4 times before, she suddenly noticed something she hadn’t before.

Mollie squinted and realized the walls that she had been using as support the entire time were all slightly curved. She found it strange as it had seemed all this time as if she had been walking in a straight line. 

_"I wonder..."_ she thought as she swiftly straightened up. Carefully, she brought herself to her feet and took off the lion statue that had been standing on the table. Mollie then pushed herself up and stood on the table to give herself a better view of her surroundings. 

“Fucking bastards,” she whispered as she looked at the scene before her. Mollie could have cursed herself for not thinking of this idea sooner. From a first glance, Mollie was taken aback by the architectural ingeniousness of the design before her. The walls had been strategically curved at very specific angles to give the illusion of a person walking through the corridors as if they were traveling in a straight line. However, as Mollie looked closer she could see that the overlap between one wall and the adjacent wall concealed a staircase at each vertex that led to the level below. As Mollie turned around she could see the landscape of the upper level resembled a maze much like the lowest level of the mansion and she cringed. 

Mollie often prided herself on her sharp and quick memory and she quickly laid the foundation and landscape of what she had just seen in her mind. Quickly, she jumped down from the table and felt her away along the stoned corridor wall before reaching the end. Instead of turning left like she usually would have done, she pressed herself against the corner and inched herself along the wall. As she reached the edge she pulled herself to the opposite wall and was met with a staircase that led down to the lower level. Although Mollie was relieved, she also knew she had wasted a lot of time and hoped Micah wouldn’t be back before she returned. 

As quickly as she could Mollie raced down the staircase and whipped herself around the corner. Mollie found herself on another level and with a start she realized she _hadn't_ made it down to the main level. She looked around her in confusion as similar stoned corridors surrounded her. The layout mirrored the one above her and she felt her stomach flop in fear. Mollie still had to find her way back to Micah’s chambers and if she continued running along without some sort of reference, she may find herself lost permanently. The exact size of the manor was still highly debatable but Mollie certainly knew it appeared much bigger than it even appeared from an exterior perspective. Mollie had nothing on her except for the smooth expensive fabric that adorned her body. Carefully, Mollie lifted her skirts to reveal a smooth silky under layer that rested below the white fabric. She used her fingers to tear the under layer into small strips of fabric and proceeded to place them in hidden corners around walls she passed as a reference point. At least this way, she could navigate her way back to the upper level when she returned. She was careful to place them in inconspicuous locations and was thankful the corridors were dimly lit to begin with. 

Mollie tried her best to remember the twists and turns Micah had led her through earlier on the above level and felt her way along the walls in a similar fashion. As Mollie turned to round a corner she heard voices on the other side of the hall and she hastily pressed herself against the nearest wall and waited for the voices to pass. Her heart jumped to her throat when she saw two burly guards pass her by. She felt her blood pulsing through her veins as her adrenaline peaked. However they passed swiftly and silently and she breathed a sigh of relief as they walked further out of sight. Mollie could hear brief bouts of clinking glasses and spirited laughter and she calmed her shaking nerves. Quickly, she smoothed her dress down and stepped out into the corridor. Mollie had suspected based on the setup of this level that it would lead her to the quarters of another royal. It had the same ancient and foreboding atmosphere as the corridors leading to Micah's and she felt hopeful that she was on the right path. She felt herself growing closer to the entrance and she prayed luck would somehow grace her soon. If this was indeed the corridor to Hartley’s chambers, she may find herself on her way out of the Lyon manor much sooner than she ever anticipated.

As Mollie approached the next corner she took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. She waited for a moment to make sure no one was there and she stepped into the wide corridor.

At the end of the hall were ceiling to floor double doors furnished with a massive gold Lions head on both handles and a red carpet that slide from the exterior into the interior. Mollie gulped and took another look around her. Mollie had assumed all the guests including most of the guards were still at the ball taking place downstairs and she saw no better opportunity to enter through those doors than now. With the way Micah kept a close watch on Mollie, she also figured her best chance was now or never. 

Mollie slowly made her way to the end of the hall towards the looming doors and she cautiously placed her hand on the cool smooth handle. Mollie had no doubt that all the lion heads that lined the manor were made of pure and several carats worth of gold and she shivered. This piece of gold alone would be enough for her, her entire apartment block, and the ones next to her to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. 

As gently as she could muster, Mollie placed her hands on the cold opulent door handles and pushed on the double doors before her. A loud eerie creak echoed across the hall and Mollie cringed at the loud noise. She stood still, trying her best to still her trembling hands. She hadn’t heard any noises for quite a while from the lower level and she prayed the party hadn’t come to a close. She felt her time was more precious now than ever and she pushed herself through the small opening letting the heavy doors close behind her with a loud reverberating _thud_. 

Mollie looked up and saw that she was standing before three arched doorways. Mollie sighed with exasperation as she found herself contemplating which one she should choose. In rather bleak terms, the essence of the manor was one giant convoluted maze and Mollie felt herself losing her patience rather quickly. She had no more time to spare and she took her chances pushing the door nearest to her on the right. With a soft creak the door opened into a dimly lit room. 

Mollie quickly grabbed a torch from the corridor in the hall before going inside to better illuminate her path. The room was a complete monstrosity with blood red walls surrounding a canopied bed bigger than Mollie’s entire living room back home. The bed was gold and dressed pristinely with the crimson coloured sheets covering the lined edges and the bed curtain that matched the duvet brushing ever so gently against the marble floor. The bed was on an elevated platform and Mollie lost count of how many pillows adorned the sprawling furniture. Mollie was convinced she had found Hartley Lyon’s chambers, there was no one else in the entire manor apart from him that would have chambers this extravagant. 

The curtains were shut tightly bringing little light into the already dark room and Mollie found herself shivering at the frigid temperature. The marble floor was cold against Mollie’s bare feet and she quickly stepped onto the soft plush rug that adorned the platform where the bed stood. Mollie brought her torch higher above her to the enormous painting above the opulent bed. Mollie gasped when she looked at the portrait above her. The similarities were so overwhelmingly striking even Mollie was taken aback by the complete accuracy of the skilled painter who had completed the masterpiece. The portrait was of a young smiling girl seated in a gold throne. She had a beautiful smile with deep dimples on the sides of her blushed cheeks and full pouty pink lips that complimented her round youthful face. Her dark blonde hair was in a deep side part and fell in carefree tousled waves around her face and her hands were clasped in her lap in an almost playful manner. She wore an ornate pearl encrusted collared dress that pronounced her elegant neck and pale complexion. She radiated youthfulness and child like innocence and Mollie couldn’t tear her eyes away from the painting. Her eyes were the most vibrant shade of green and she knew of only one other person with eyes that alluring. Not only could she see Micah within those pale green orbs, but also within the soft blushed dimpled cheeks and careful edges of her elegant face. 

_Who was she?_

The girl was exquisite and Mollie wondered why _her_ portrait and not the late queens was the one that was given the spotlight in Hartley’s chambers. 

Tearing her gaze from the portrait she shuffled over to the dresser and began to pull open drawers searching for some sort of safe or key. Mollie wondered where someone like Hartley would keep his most precious files and she searched the room closely. As suspected many of the drawers were locked and Mollie began to look under the bed and the soft velvet furniture in the hopes of finding _something_ that would give her some sort of lead. She made her way to the bedside table where a single drawer was built into the bedside table and pulled sharply. 

Mollie had pulled the handle rather harshly in her rush and she swore as the drawer pulled out completely, sending the cabinet piece tumbling to the marble floor with a crash. She looked around her in panic and noticed several papers scattered around the floor along with numerous sketches. Mollie also noticed a fancy key engraved with a delicate flower amongst the rubble and she quickly slipped the key into her corset. She quickly placed the torch onto a stand on the nearest wall and sunk to her knees to clean up the mess. 

She quieted for a moment, waiting for footsteps or someone to come storming into the room but nothing followed except for an eerie overwhelming silence. Mollie gathered the papers quickly and thumbed through them searching for information. A lot of them appeared to be old mail about transactions to and from the Lyons and Mollie found nothing too suspicious about them. They were all company names that Mollie had seen countless times back home. As Mollie shuffled the papers in her hands she saw several sketches fall out and she carefully placed the other papers down to take a closer look at the photos. 

The sketches were of places, places Mollie had never seen and she wondered who had drawn them. Hartley didn’t strike as her as the artistic type and she noted how intricate the photos were. Although they were outstanding, there was something a little immature about the style, as if the person who had drawn them was inexperienced but had a vision that surpassed most people at their age. The sketches were always of the same woman with dark hair, drawn from the back, standing in various locations. One was at the edge of a clifftop, another in the middle of a crowded marketplace. Mollie found something rather melancholic about the sketches and she wondered not only who had drawn them, but why Hartley had decided to keep them. Mollie shifted beneath some more files, elegant handwriting etched onto several loose pages of parchment of names and places Mollie had never heard of from Apollo to Chapman and places that stretch from Cortez to the peaks of Darien.

As Mollie turned back to the files something familiar caught her eye. She noticed a list of famous companies listed in straight formal writing on what appeared to be an official document. Mollie paused as she stared at a list of various company names listed on the files. 

_Izabel's Milk_

_Hunter’s Meats_

_Mountain Inc_

As Mollie looked closer she suddenly felt her face go hot and her hands trembled as she saw in the tiniest lettering a single sentence that sent her lungs spasming out of control. 

_Parent Company: Lyon Enterprises_

Mollie realized with a sickening lurch that what was universally believed throughout the regime to be independent companies selling independent products were all really subsidiaries of one single parent company.

The Lyons owned everything. 

They had monopolized the regime and tricked their civilians into thinking competition in the marketplace existed. Mollie was fuming and her hands were shaking as she took in this information. The more Mollie thought about it, the more it made sense. She herself was a struggling small business and she could barely make enough money to keep food on the table for her and her mother. And she knew of so many people who had failed to compete in the market due to the overwhelming success of various other companies, which she now realized, were really just companies that operated under the management of the conglomerate Lyon Enterprises. 

Mollie fumed as she saw another list of names of other companies that had been bought over by the Lyons and the hefty sums of money they paid out to the owners of those smaller businesses. Mollie realized at that moment that the Lyons sought more than just money. They sought ultimate power and this was through not only the government but through the marketplace as well. 

The papers trembled in her hands as she tried to control her rapid breathing. The papers were signed by Hartley Lyon as the CEO. She dreaded to think about how much worse things could get when those papers would begin to bear the signature of his youngest son. 

At that moment, Mollie heard shuffling from outside. She looked down at the papers in front of her and as carefully and quickly as she could folded them neatly and tucked it away into her corset. Mollie realized now that she had no reason to find the contract the Insurgency coveted so deeply. This was enough to prove the Lyons were exploiting the public and enough to prove that they were inherently deceiving the people they claimed to value so much. 

Mollie lurched to her feet tucking the rest of the papers into the drawer. She hitched her dress up and padded over to the door making sure to grab her torch with her on her way out. The room was blanketed in darkness once more and Mollie quickly slipped back outside and stifled her torch. She was drenched in darkness almost instantaneously and she held her breath as she heard shuffling from the farthest door in the small corridor. Mollie also realized that her palms had begun to sweat uncontrollably due to the rapid surge of epinephrine pumping through her veins and she cursed as she felt the sweat trickle down her wrists.

With a tantalizingly slow creak, the door slowly began to open. Mollie stood tense and shaking in the far corner and held her hands out in front of her the way the kids back home used to whenever they got into fist fights in the alleyways. She squeezed her eyes tight as a torch light from the opposite side of the room illuminated the tiny corridor. Even if she wanted to, there was no place to hide. With a sickening lurch Mollie took a deep breath and turned herself around to await her fate.


	20. Calcium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie has new goals to achieve. Mollie's relationship with Micah appears to become increasingly feeble.

“Mollie?”

Mollie’s eyes snapped open. She knew that voice. 

“Oh my god Mollie.” 

She opened her eyes to see the familiar youthful face of Isaac staring at her, his blue eyes wide and his mouth gaping. Mollie was beginning to think that this was something of a permanent expression. However her relief was boundless. She had truly thought it was the end.

“Isaac,” she whispered as he pummelled towards her and embraced her in an uncomfortably tight hug. She wasn’t expecting the gesture and she stumbled backwards. He smelled like fire and Mollie realized he held the torch in his hand dangerously close to her back.

“Isaac, the torch,” she said quickly unwinding his arms from around her. Mollie had never been one to hug, and she hadn’t received many growing up in her household. She shifted uncomfortably as he slowly released his arms.

“Sorry,” he mumbled quietly retracting his arms. “I was just… so happy to see you. I thought you were…”

He trailed off and Mollie dropped her gaze.

“You thought I was dead,” Mollie said monotonously. She couldn’t help the disappointment that welled up inside of her.

Isaac looked distraught but Mollie couldn’t be swayed. 

“It would have been nice if you hadn't assumed that. I’ve been trapped in the upper quarters of the West wing for months.” 

Isaac’s brow furrowed when he heard this. 

“The West wing? That can’t be right. That’s where the guest quarters are. The Lyons would never put slaves there.”

Mollie’s fists involuntarily flexed whenever she heard that despicable word. 

“Are you listening to me or not?” she said heatedly narrowing her eyes at the young man. “Micah Lyon hasn’t let me out of his sight since my first few days here. That’s why I couldn’t make contact for all this time.”

“Micah Lyon?” Isaac said confusedly his lips curling at the name. “Micah Lyon does not keep slaves. And what the hell are you doing with Micah Lyon? You’re supposed to be focused on Hartley…”

Isaac trailed off when he saw the furious expression on Mollie’s face.

“Sorry sorry,” he mumbled. “Fuck,” he said after taking some time to digest what Mollie had just told him. “How did you get caught up with Micah Lyon? The man is unhinged.”

Mollie swallowed uneasily and looked around her quickly. If she didn’t leave soon she may just face the wrath of unhinged Micah Lyon. 

“Well just to fill you in, Micah is the new CEO of Lyon Enterprises.” 

Isaac looked stunned and Mollie gauged his reaction nervously. Only a select number of guards had been granted access to the throne room during Hartley's speech earlier, and Mollie figured the news of his sons promotion still needed to circulate. 

“Since when?” he asked, his voice cracking. 

“Since today. It was announced at the ball earlier.” 

Isaac brushed his sandy hair back and looked around him in awe. 

“Why? Why would Hartley do this?” He was biting his lip and Mollie could see he was deep in thought. She was itching to know what was going through his mind. “That’s…it…it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why?” Mollie questioned. “Why doesn’t it make sense?”

“Think about it Mollie,” he said crossing his arms in frustration. “Micah is barely in his twenties yet he’s going to be taking over a multi billion dollar company from his father despite his father having two _far_ more willing and _far_ more capable options.” 

It _did_ seem strange to Mollie but she knew little of the internal conflicts between Hartley and his sons. 

“Rowan did tell me that Micah and James don’t get along. Maybe this is Hartley’s way of pitting them against each other?” 

Now Isaac was the one to laugh tonelessly. 

“Don’t get along is putting it lightly,” he said with a frown. “The two of them could barely be in the same room without one of them pulling a dagger out on the other.” 

“Why?” Mollie questioned staring at Isaac.

“I would have thought you’d know the answer to that since you spent so much time with his royal iciness,” Isaac said rather irately.

Mollie shot him a wintry glare.

“Yeah well, he doesn’t open up very easily. It takes him a while.”

Isaac listened carefully…then suddenly his eyes lit up and Mollie felt dread pool in her stomach. 

“Mollie. This…this could work in our favour.” Isaac had begun pacing and Mollie shot a longing look at the door. She had been gone for long. Too long.

“With Micah as CEO, Hartley’s issues are trivial....you have to get the prince to open up to you. If you gauge information from him, anything about his family or about his father, but more importantly his business…we could take them down from the inside out.”

Mollie scoffed. 

“That is the most radical impossible idea I’ve ever heard,” she said seething. “Micah is slyer than a fox and he isn’t stupid enough to reveal anything about his family or his business to me. Not now and not ever.”

“That’s what everyone used to say about the Insurgency when we first formed,” Isaac said quietly. Mollie watched as his blue eyes quivered at the memory. “And look where we are now. We’ve put one of the longest ruling Lyons six feet under. Permanently.” 

Mollie dropped her gaze. She didn’t like where this was going and she wanted desperately to just run…escape. Mollie could have earlier. She could have taken the corridor down and attempted an escape and be free from the countless strings tying her to the Lyon manor. 

But she had carried out her mission. She was holding on to that promise that maybe, just _maybe_ the Insurgency _could_ free her from the world of misery she was currently held captive to. But it seemed to Mollie that the closer the got to her freedom, the more steep the demands became. Mollie was only one person. She couldn’t bear this burden on her own.

“Look Mollie,” Isaac said gently stepping closer. “I’m going to let Caleb know that you’re okay, that you’re more than okay. You’ve done…so well. You’re one of our most important members now. We protect our own.” He paused after this to place his hands gently on Mollie’s bare shoulders. “I won’t give up on you and neither will the others.”

“Isaac I can’t stay. I have to go-“

“Mollie wait,” he said clutching her arm. “You still have a lot of explaining to do.” 

“Isaac let me go,” she argued pulling her arm from his grip. Mollie saw him tense and she saw the hurt cross his features. But she had no time to feel sorry for him. She had to make it back before Micah…

“Who’s side are you on Mollie?” 

Mollie had made it the door and she stopped dead when she heard the question Isaac had directed at her.

“What kind of stupid question is that?” she snapped facing him angrily. “I’m putting my life on the line to do what she you need me to do and now you decide to question my motives?” Her voice had risen several octaves and she was struggling to keep her voice down. “You have no idea what the hell I’ve been through. You have no _idea_ the shit I’ve had to put up with. Yet you stand here and have the nerve to question _me_ about _my intentions_?”

Mollie had lost her nerve and all of the swallowed fear, burning anguish, and pent up bitterness that had been stirring inside her and risen to dangerous heights and released in a torrent of hate filled fury onto the unsuspecting man standing before her. 

He stood quietly as Mollie tried to control her breathing and she inwardly cursed as she felt the pinpricks of moisture accumulating at the edges of her eyes. 

Mollie reached into her corset and pulled out the papers she had stuffed there only moments before. “Here are your goddamn documents,” she said tersely stuffing them into his hands. 

“I want nothing more to do with this.” 

Mollie sniffed and wiped her hand across her face where betraying tears had made their way down her cheeks. 

“Mollie wait,” she heard Isaac say as he once more grabbed her arm, albeit more gently this time. She turned to him and when she saw the sadness mirrored in his eyes. She knew she wasn’t the only one in a position where self-autonomy was threatened. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just...I had to ask. Seeing you with the prince I…I didn’t know what to think. I had to make sure.” 

Mollie winced.

“It’s not what you think,” she said quietly rubbing her bare shoulders. “I know how it looks…how it may seem…but I need you to believe me.”

Isaac looked at her, taking in her makeup, her curled hair, and extravagant outfit and sighed. He looked down at the papers in his hand and clutched them tightly in his fists. 

“I do trust you Mollie,” he said firmly. “And whatever is going on. I’m going to fix it, I’m going to get you out of here.” 

Mollie couldn’t face him when she heard this. She knew, deep down that an escape seemed like the farthest scenario in her realm of infinite possibilities that could ever exist. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Isaac,” she sighed.

She noticed Isaac frowning at the corner of her eye and she saw his frown deepen as he read the files in his hands. 

“Mollie…did you see this?”

Mollie sighed.

“Yes. I saw.”

“Fuck,” he muttered shuffling through the papers. “I knew the Lyons were greedy motherfuckers but I didn’t think it was to this extent.”

“Were you able to find anything else in his other rooms?” Mollie asked glancing around her. 

Isaac shook his head.

“Nothing. Just papers upon papers of useless information. Nothing as good as what you found. Mollie…this is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Caleb will be over the moon.” 

Mollie frowned when she heard this and suddenly she felt a compelling urge to grab the files and keep them close to her. She hadn’t forgotten what Micah had told her about the Insurgency. It was something that had been gnawing at the back of her mind since the prince had first told her. 

“Isaac. What exactly happened to Logan Lyon?” 

Isaac looked at her and within his eyes she saw the faintest glint of pride and it made her stomach flop. 

“The Insurgency killed him. It took years to carry out, many more months to execute it but we finally did it. We’re one step closer to dismantling the Lyons Mollie. Crushing the very foundations of this monarchy.” 

“And what about the others?” she asked heatedly. “What about the civilians who died as a result of the attack. 

“Attack? Mollie what are you talking about? We took down one of the most bloodthirsty members of the Lyon clan. Who cares about how it happened. He’s dead now.”

Mollie laughed humourlessly. 

“Your precious Caleb didn’t tell you about the collateral damage did he? About the women and the children who died as a result of _your_ vicious tactics.” 

Isaac seemed perplexed. “Collateral? I’ve heard of no such thing. Who told you that? Was it the prince?”

She saw Isaac’s face flush in anger and she sighed. She was tired of these games of lies. She didn’t know what the truth was anymore. All she knew was that she was done with this. All of this. 

“Those Lyons can’t be trusted. Not even Micah Lyon.” 

Isaac’s expression had turned sour and the flush in his cheeks only deepened.

“Reel him in Mollie, don’t let him reel you. And by God’s hell don’t fall for him.”

Mollie looked sharply at Isaac when he said this and she took in his locked jaw, his frigid glare and his shaking fists.

“I’m guessing I’m not the first girl you stole away and sent out on a mission to gather secrets from the Lyons.”

Mollie watched as Isaac averted his gaze. 

“I don’t know what it is about that Lyon,” Isaac grumbled his knuckles whitening around the torch. “But all our girls…even those we believed were our best lose their wits around him. People say James is the one to watch out for. But it’s Micah. Something not right about him.” 

Mollie sighed. “I don’t know Isaac,” she murmured, her thoughts focused on the prince. “I get the feeling Micah didn’t want to be CEO. He seemed…just as surprised as the guests when it was announced.” 

Isaac was shaking his head before Mollie had finished. 

“Please Mollie,” he said with a shake of his head. “Who _wouldn't_ want the power to control an expanding wealth accumulated empire?”

Mollie suddenly heard a clattering of footsteps from the floor beneath her and she nervously looked around her. 

“Isaac. I _must_ go. I’ve been out for far too long.”

She saw him nod and she quickly bunched her skirts around her and made a move for the door.

“Mollie. Listen. Every month, on the third Friday of the month, there is a ship that comes to the Questershire Manor to load off valuables, food, essentials. Caleb has connections on the boat. Whenever things don’t go our way we send people on that ship to be taken back to the mainland.”

Mollie watched as he grabbed a piece of parchment and an ink-pen from his belt and proceeded to scribble a date on the slip.

“If you find yourself in danger or feel you must leave. Tell the guard that _the roof has caved in_. He’ll know what that means and he’ll grant you private access on the ship.” 

Mollie saved this at the back of her mind and nodded at Isaac as he handed her the parchment.

“One more thing Mollie,” he said gripping her wrist. “The boat leaves at midnight. Don’t be a minute later you’ll miss the ride.”

“I’ll remember,” Mollie murmured her arm on the door. 

“Now go,” he said giving her push towards the door. “And never forget the real reason why you’re here.”

With her heart in her throat and her legs the consistency of melted candle-wax Mollie wrenched the door open and ran as fast as her long legs could take her. 

***

Mollie had never run so quickly in her life. 

By the time she made it back to Micah Lyon’s chambers the moon had settled high into the night sky and what had previously been a cacophony of clinking glasses and cheering men that permeated through the many levels of the manor had dissipated into a slow and imperceptible hum. 

The room was empty when Mollie returned and she all but sunk to her knees on the cool floor not quite believing her luck. There were no clocks in her quarters nor within the bedroom chambers and Mollie had to rely on the suns location in the night sky to deduce the time. 

Mollie guessed she had been gone for a little over an hour and she carefully felt around her bosom for the fancy key.

She had not handed Isaac the key and she carefully toyed with the small delicate object between her fingers. The key was incredibly small, too small to open even a lock or small chest. Mollie guessed it opened some sort of locket or delicate jewellery. The mouldings and engravings that surrounded the tiny piece of metal was really something to see and Mollie absentmindedly continued to twirl the object within her fingers.

Mollie’s mind was preoccupied with Isaac’s words to her earlier. Her feelings towards Micah were more scattered than ever. Although her dislike for the prince overshadowed most of her other feelings towards him, she still felt an incessant need to _understand_ him…to get to know him better. She yearned to unearth the many secrets and thoughts that he harboured about his family...about her...about himself. He was so reluctant, so careful. Mollie wanted to see him set himself free and disconnect himself from the cold expressionless exterior of the prince he so avidly sported. She had seen a glimpse of that person for a brief moment, within the small warm cabin where he had proceeded to take her virginity. Mollie wondered if she would be able allow him to open up once again.

Mollie had stood up and made her way to the round balcony letting the cool breeze swirl through her curls. It was unusually chilly out for typical southern weather and Mollie found herself folding her arms over her chest to preserve body heat. She felt a piece of rough parchment clinch around her chest and confusedly she glanced down. She fished out the parchment from the stitch in her dress and stared at the scribbled note.

_Friday. 00:00._

It was the note Isaac had handed to her before she had returned to Micah's chambers. He had said the third Friday of every month. That gave her some time.

_But would it be enough?_

Mollie sighed and found herself lingering on faded memories of her mother’s smiling face as she ran across a black sand beach. She found herself thinking about her mother’s weathered hands as she showed Mollie how to knead dough, how to look after herself. These were precious times. Times when her mother remembered who she was and could remember that her only daughter was more than just an unwanted burden given to her by a man who betrayed her. 

She let the parchment slip from her fingers on the balcony and swirl among the manor walls before disappearing amongst the foggy film that had begun to form above the rough ocean waters. It was too dangerous for her to keep. She couldn't take any further risks... especially not tonight.

Mollie lost track of time as she stood on the balcony. She found solace in the cool midnight breeze and the rushing sound of water hitting the rocky jagged shore that lined the uneven land. She had taken grave risks tonight and somehow she had come out unscathed. She couldn’t keep her mind off the woman in the portrait of Hartley’s chambers. She was itching to know more but she had to remember to hold her tongue. Hartley was obviously infatuated with this young woman to have a grand portrait of her above his bed, taking up most of the wall space within his palatial quarters. Did he even love the late queen at all? What was this young woman's connection with the Lyons? These thoughts swirled through her mind as Mollie stood on the chilly balcony. In spite of the warm green illusion that painted the perimeter of Questershire manor, Mollie could feel the inching threat of winter upon her, the frost performing its secret ministry at this untimely hour. The dark haired girl tapped her fingers against the rough stone pillars and had to remind herself that she could not reveal to Micah that she knew anything of what she had just witnessed that night. 

The sharp slam of a heavy door hitting the door frame broke Mollie from her reverie and she nearly jumped out of her skin at the loud sound. 

Mollie knew something was wrong the minute the door slammed against the doorframe and immediately, she trembled in fear. Mollie felt as if icicles were being slid against the warm flesh of her exposed back and she slowly turned to face her captor. 

Micah had stormed into his chambers and Mollie stood frozen to the spot as he paced the room his shoulders stiff and his hair in loose tousled waves. Mollie had been holding her breath since he had entered and she couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips as he slammed his hands against the door frame in anger. Whatever it was that was on his mind had him absolutely fuming and Mollie watched as he unsuccessfully tried to subdue his trembling arms. The sound emitting from Mollie's lips alerted him and she saw him slowly turn his head towards her. 

_Was he upset with her? Did he come to check on her and she wasn’t here?_

Mollie was met with familiar cold green eyes. His white tuxedo was a splash of brightness in the otherwise black room. Mollie shivered in the cool breeze as he stalked toward where she stood, rooted to the spot on his vast balcony. Isaac’s words reverberated in her head and she felt the sweat begin to accumulate on her hands. He was not the usual controlled prince she was used to seeing. This was someone who was teetering on the brink of self-destruction. 

Mollie was paralysed in fear as she saw him pause and turn his head towards the bed where everything lay completely untouched….as if no one had been in the room at all. 

Mollie gulped.

There was a long painstakingly extended silence that followed as the tall prince stood frozen, halfway through the balcony doors towards the skinny girl in white. Mollie could practically hear the gears in his mind clicking as his loose waves fell atop his forehead to shield his icy gaze. He didn't brush his thick hair back like he usually did and Mollie could see nothing except for the deep frown that formed his full pink lips. 

Slowly, as if she were a stacked glass tower of champagne he pulled her against him. Mollie’s head fell just beneath his chin and she tried to control her breathing. 

Mollie felt an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t help but feel as if the grip Micah had on her was just a touch too tight. She had to do something…some sort of damage control. The uncomfortable silence was becoming too much for her to bear. 

“I fell asleep on the couch,” she lied gesturing to the chaise in the far corner of the room where previously, they had been arguing. “I didn’t have anything to change into…”

Her voice shook against her will and she inwardly cursed at her foolishness. The room looked as unused as it did when Micah had brought her in and he clearly noticed that nothing much had changed. 

His face was utterly blank as he pulled back to stare at Mollie and she felt the pit of fear in her stomach clench. 

Mollie shivered under his unwavering gaze and she felt her face grow all hot. Mollie could tell from his stance and his hard gaze that he was aware something was off. Mollie just prayed that his scepticism would lead to inconclusive answers. 

When he spoke again Mollie felt the muscles in her legs weaken. 

“I suppose we’ll have to fix that then won’t we?” 

His voice was painstaking identical to the tone he used to address the guard whose eye he took out without a second thought. In spite of his tone, Micah had a smile on his face as he regarded Mollie but the girl was far from convinced. She didn’t like the way his shoulders remained stiff and his eyes remained hard.

“Turn around,” he ordered quietly keeping his gaze fixed on Mollie. She obeyed miserably and prayed he didn’t do anything to punish her. The coldness of his tone said it all and she trembled as he began to slowly unbutton the delicate gown.

Mollie’s heart began to race as the prince slowly exposed her back to the cool air. She had the little fancy key held in her corset and she swiftly pulled it out of her bosom and let it drop with the rest of her gown before Micah could notice.

As if he’d done it a million times before he began to untie the tight restraining corset that had hindered Mollie’s breathing for most of the night. She sucked in beautiful deep breaths as she felt the heavy material drop to the floor to join the rest of her garments. She stood naked on the balcony with only the pale illumination of the moonlight to showcase her little curves and statuesque height. Mollie was suddenly lurched forward and she shrieked as the prince pushed her against the freezing stone pillars of the balcony.

He was looming over Mollie so her stomach grazed painfully against the rough stone and her exposed chest throbbed from the pressure exerted on her from behind. She was dangling over the balcony inches away from falling down towards the jagged rock laden shore below as Micah boxed her in with the threat of letting her fall. 

She couldn’t see his face but she could tell from his rough grip and his sharp exhales that he was angry. Mollie was shaking and she was too terrified to even say one word in case that triggered him enough to end her right then and there. 

He had been angry when he walked in from matters that Mollie had no control over, and now his anger _was_ extended towards Mollie and her little stunt tonight did nothing to help her case. 

Her long hair dangled below her face to caress the exterior pillars of the balcony and she closed her eyes tight. 

She felt Micah’s cool breath on her ear and she shivered. She felt his fingers inch towards her neck as he tilted her head down to the murky waters below them. 

“There’s nothing more upsetting to me Mollie… than people who take me for a fool.” 

Mollie squeezed her eyes more tightly and felt the tears accumulate at the edges. She was stupid. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ for thinking the prince wouldn’t notice her absence. She had made a mistake this time around and now she had to pay the price. 

She realized he had been testing her from the beginning. He had been dangling the bait when he told her he was leaving. And like a blindsided fish she had taken it. 

He pressed her more forcefully and she groaned in pain as the rough stone began to scrape into her flesh. From a distance it may have appeared as if two intimate lovers were entangling in an act of love. But the truth of the matter was far more sinister. 

“Why do you keep _lying_ to me Mollie?”

Mollie winced at the frustration that laced his tone. He seemed genuinely confused and Mollie squirmed beneath his grasp. This only tightened his hold on her and caused him to drop her lower. She began to cough as the rough ocean waters sprayed her face. 

Mollie was shocked by the roughness of the waves. They were metres upon metres away from the water and yet... the waves pummelled against the shores with such a force that it reached the high windows that lined the towers on the cliffs edge. 

“You asked me questions. I gave you honest answers. Yet I find your truthfulness...your dedication to me to be unreciprocated.”

His voice was a low foreboding murmur and she tried to clutch at the man standing behind her. 

“I’ve tried my best to make this better for you...” 

Mollie paused as his voice dropped even lower and she had to struggle to hear him better over the crushing waves of water hitting rock. 

“But you’ve given me no choice. I won’t be disrespected like this Mollie. I won’t allow it.” 

His voice was as icy as the rough showers that splashed her face and abruptly she was pulled backwards and whipped around to face the prince. 

His eyes were blank and lifeless and she let the tears fall freely as he began to remove the expensive white tuxedo from his body. Within seconds he was left with only his pants resting tightly against his defined hips. His muscled body glinted in the moonlight and she couldn’t help the tears that leaked from her eyes at the prospect of what would follow. He ignored her tears, venturing back into his room for a moment before returning to the balcony where she stood. 

“Stop crying Mollie,” he said sharply wrapping his cold fingers around her wrist. She bit her lip hard to stifle her sobs and she watched as he brought a wet cloth strip forward and pressed the material against her upper arm. The sharp burning odour of alcohol filled her nostrils and she watched as the prince brought a thin needle forward with the intention of piercing her. 

She gasped and tried to wrench herself free. Mollie had _hated_ needles since she was a young girl and she would often have had to get held down by multiple people before the doctor had even the slightest opportunity to prick her. 

She was shaking and and inched herself as far away from the dark haired man in front of her and pressed against the balcony as the prince stood in front her, an obvious expression of great irritation on his face. 

The frown that had become a permanent part of his expression for the night deepened as he approached Mollie with the syringe in his hand. 

“If you move Mollie, I will hurt you. But if you stay still, I will hurt you less.”

She couldn’t stop her body from shaking as he brought the needle closer to her arm. His grip was firm and his movements confident and Mollie squeezed her eyes as tightly as she could manage. 

“This is for your own good after all,” he murmured. 

The needle pierced her skin and she whined in pain as the briefest feeling of pain erupted then subsided. Micah was quick with his movements and she slowly opened her eyes to see him swiftly dispose of the used syringe. He returned and Mollie watched as he slid his formal trousers off his body. 

“This was supposed to be a night of passion,” he said slowly reaching for Mollie. He sighed in disappointment, as if Mollie were a disobedient child incapable of learning from past mistakes. “But you had to turn it into a night of punishment.” 

His grip was painfully tight and Mollie didn’t like how rough he was being with her. It was out of character. Tears still stained her cheeks and she watched as he brought his face closer to hers and held her gaze for a long time. She hadn’t noticed his dark tousled hair and deep frown when he had entered. It _wasn't_ just her that had upset him tonight, this she was sure of.

There was something more that was stirring up his anger. Something that had absolutely _nothing_ to do with her. 

He brought his fingers up to wipe away her tears.

Mollie saw the briefest flicker of emotion line his features before his face returned into that same impassive expression.

“I’ve told you before Mollie,” he said quietly bringing her closer into his embrace. “I don’t enjoy seeing you cry.” 

Her tears trailed down her cheeks to fall against his chest and she found the strength to look up at him.

He had brought his fingers down to her hips and he gripped her hard as he pushed her once again against the balcony. She gasped as he clutched a hand against her thigh to wrap around his firm waist. He did the same with the other and before long she found herself straddling him as his pulsating cock brushed her cool outer lips. 

“There’s something about you,” he groaned into her ear as he slid himself inside her. “That I can’t get enough of.”

Mollie cried out in pain as he sheathed himself fully into her. She wasn’t fully prepared and she knew that Micah was aware of this. This pleasure wasn’t for her to experience and he made that clear. 

He hoisted her up onto the edge and she gasped out in pain as he repeatedly thrust within her unlubricated walls. His pace was ruthless and his grip too tight as Mollie tightened her hold around the prince. He held her dangerously close to the edge of the balcony. When he lifted her up once more he exacerbated his movement so she hovered perilously far from the balcony's edge. 

“Master Lyon!” she cried out clutching Micah’s shoulders. He was panting against her neck and she felt him chuckle as he circled his tongue around her rock hard nipple. 

“You see how it feels Mollie,” he said mockingly leaning her down farther. “To have your trust for someone probed and queried before your eyes after so willingly handing it over to them.” 

Mollie was terrified as the waves of the ocean began to spray her back. Between Micah’s relentless thrusting and the biting rough edges of the stone against her lower back she couldn’t distinguish between which pain was worse. 

She cried out as he harshly tugged on her breasts in a manner that was far from pleasurable.

“Do you know what could happen to you here if you disobey me…if you try to deceive me?” he asked her harshly finishing his sentence with a painful thrust that sent Mollie biting into his shoulder to muffle her screams of pain. 

“Are you going to betray my trust again Mollie?” He asked her sternly like a parent scolding a child. 

She hesitated and she felt Micah push her backwards fully so she fully dangled over the edge. She screamed as the cool air enveloped her back completely and the cool spray of the ocean became a shower of droplets. 

Her gut instinct was telling her, screaming at her to obey and acquiesce to the cruel man keeping her from plunging to her death. But underneath that primal instinctual feeling that persuaded her to give in, was a bubbling dangerously combustible rebel surge that spiked Mollie almost as much as the adrenaline that pumped through her veins. 

He seemed frustrated and if Mollie didn’t know any better, she would have thought she saw a flicker of fear within those clear eyes. Fear for _her_.

“You wouldn’t,” she whipped out through her lips as she clutched the prince. The inside of her lip burst with blood as she bit down on it hard to keep the pain pulsing at her back and knees at bay. “You wouldn’t drop me even if I betrayed you three times over.” 

Another large wave hit the edge of the cliff sending water showering onto Mollie from below, the icy cold waters splashing against her back. 

Mollie didn’t even have enough time to gauge his reaction.

Micah retaliated quickly and before Mollie knew what had happened she was slapped across the face so hard and so rapidly her vision blurred before her head was roughly brought forward so her nose touched the princes. 

“Do you really want to test that theory out?”

The look of blatant anger in his eyes paralyzed Mollie and she watched as he inched her lower over the edge. Her head was still ringing from the tight slap she had received and she groaned as more icy ocean water began to soak her from the back. 

“You need to stop playing cat and mouse with me Mollie,” he seethed. “Not every animal has nine lives to spare.” 

His fingers dug into her waist and she squirmed in his grasp but his grip was as cold and as tight as iron. Her squirming was futile and only caused his cock to rub faster against her walls. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered harshly as Micah thrusted even harder into her, reaching into the very depths of her pulsing vagina. 

“You can do better than that Mollie Mae,” he said tonelessly tilting her down another a few degrees so the only thing keeping her from falling into the waters below was the prince. She was clawing at him now and she felt tears brim the edges of her eyes once again. 

“I’m sorry Master Lyon,” she stumbled between her whimpers of pain. It was a huge blow to Mollie to have to give in to the prince’s cruel treatments. But she had played with her life enough for one night. She had no more fight left to give. 

She heard him sigh against her neck as his grip around her slackened. His cock was held loosely within her walls but Mollie didn’t release her tight grip around his shoulders. If Micah’s grip had been even a tad looser than it was, Mollie would no doubt have dropped from the balcony to join the rest of the bodies that lined the bottom of the ocean floor. 

“I had thought I had subdued that wild streak within you during your first punishment,” Micah murmured as he carried her back inside his room and proceeded to lay her onto the massive bed. He smiled secretively to himself. “But I suppose father was right about certain things. Recidivism is inevitable.” 

Mollie shivered as he placed his palms on either side of her head his cock twitching within her. Mollie was sickened by how turned on he was at this moment. He pushed himself into her over and over and Mollie cried out as he took her viciously and harshly. Mollie could see a wall within his eyes. It was the same look he had that day in the parlour. The look that showed a man drowning in his convoluted thoughts... a man that was miles away from his present self. 

“Micah,” she groaned as he slammed her hard into the thick comforter of the bed. Her vaginal canal had lubricated slightly since he had first penetrated her but not enough for Mollie to take pleasure from his relentless pummelling. 

Although he was lean, he was incredibly strong and Mollie gasped as his rock hard body slammed against hers and his biceps flexed as he supported himself on top of the skinny girl. 

The moonlight did little to illuminate the room and the candles had long since burned out. 

Micah’s hair had come loose from the neat styled part he had worn earlier and his eyes were shielded from the tousled waves that fell over his forehead. Mollie could no longer feel the pulsation of her lower lips and her breathing had transitioned into painful gasps of air. Her lower abdomen was a ravine of wet, empty numbness.

Micah was usually so controlled and so careful when he had taken her. The change in his persona was so abrupt, so sudden, and so unexpected that Mollie was rendered speechless as he continued to brutally penetrate her. The pain was a tight and never ending spasm between the space in her thighs and Mollie couldn’t help the tears that fell from her lids. It was becoming too much for her to bear.

 _“Micah!”_ she cried out as felt the hot spurt of warm semen spread through her ravaged canal. He was panting above her and despite the ripping pain that had engulfed Mollie’s lower body, her spasming pussy still decided to clench itself around the cock of the man above her, squeezing as tight as it could and ejecting wave after wave of warmth from within her. 

He jerked after Mollie had called out his name and she whimpered in pain as he abruptly slid himself free from her dripping and trembling hole. 

Mollie watched him hazily from the bed as he slid on his pants and quickly made his way to the dresser where several beautiful and neatly laid goblets stood side by side on an elevated platform above the dresser. In one fluid motion he lifted his arm and sent all the beautiful goblets and delicate pieces surging to the ground where they shattered into a million tiny crystals. 

Mollie curled up as she heard glass after glass hit the floor and she squeezed her eyes tight as the prince continued to bring every delicate ornament that adorned his room crashing to the ground. She pressed her face deeper into the duvet to drown out the sound of glass hitting glass and prayed the prince’s outburst would end soon. The shattering reminded Mollie of a vicious and devastating hurricane that wiped out everything in its presence and she clawed at her ears as the ear piercing sound of shattering glass echoed through the spacious room.

It seemed like an eternity before silence finally settled upon them. Mollie had decided to hold her breath and count to one hundred before making any kind of move. She felt the sting of fresh tears form in her eyes and she carefully pushed herself up from the bed. Millions of glass shards and precious gems and crystals lined the floor and Mollie slowly brought her eyes forward to the heaving figure on the opposite end of the room. Micah was now leaning against the opposite wall from Mollie and she could see him trembling as his back faced her. 

Mollie couldn’t help but inhale sharply when she saw the deep silvery scars that lined the princes back. Mollie couldn’t see a single spot on Micah's exposed skin where a past laceration or long faded bruise hadn’t existed. Many of the scars had long since healed, but Mollie could see numerous thin puckered lines of skin decorated across various sections of his back that were there to stay. Mollie knew scars like that were caused by deep lacerations and her stomach recoiled when she thought about what could have caused such trauma. 

The moonlight provided poor lighting in the dark room but Mollie could see lines of fresh red bruising along Micah’s sharp hip leading around to his torso. He was breathing heavily and Mollie froze as she saw him slowly stiffen into an upright position. His fists were flexing and unflexing and Mollie was terrified. He was always under control, always so composed and refined. But something, _something_ had triggered him so deeply and so traumatically that Micah Lyon himself reached his breaking point. 

Mollie tried to move and felt the sticky feeling of cold wet fluid drip down her legs and she shuddered at the repulsive sensation. She attempted to slide off the bed and stand upright, but as she reached the ground Mollie found her legs were the consistency of jelly and she fell to the ground hard, her lithe legs crumpling beneath her. The pain within her vaginal canal was enough to prevent her from standing, and she yelped in pain as she felt several glass shards pierce into her knees. 

Her vision began to darken as she clawed around the glass covered floor before her. Mollie was fading away into darkness as she felt two sturdy arms lift her into the air and she fell slowly into dreams of bloody wounds and sliced flesh where wave after wave of crimson liquid surged through her heaving throat threatened to keep her under for good. 

***

Mollie heard the faint sound of waves crashing against the rocks. The sound of rushing water was always comforting to Mollie and vivid flashes of green foliage and muddy riverbanks flooded her mind. Mollie always questioned whether these memories were real or simply a figment of her imagination. But the images were so vivid and so detailed Mollie knew she had been there before. 

She groaned as bright natural sunlight filtered in through open doors of the balcony and she stretched her arms above her head as the heat from the sun fell onto her sleeping form. The pillows were so soft and the duvet so thick and warm. She inhaled slowly as the scent of fresh citrus and earthy musk filled her senses. 

That _scent_.

She gasped in surprise when that familiar scent, etched within the sheets that wrapped around her body, reached her nose and she rolled over onto her stomach only to feel a sharp painful pull from her lower belly. She bolted upright when she remembered the events of the previous night. Mollie felt a strange twist from her stomach and she moaned in pain as she clutched her abdomen. As she pushed back the sheets she stared in horror at the grisly mess that covered the once snow white sheets. There was no way Micah had punished her _that_ badly. Blood soaked the sheets around her and Mollie stared in horror at the murder mess that covered the sheets and her inner thighs. When she saw the mess of dark clotted blood she heaved a sigh of relief. She had forgotten about her cycle and she cringed as she realized that she had begun menstruating. 

The door to the room opened and Mollie clutched the sheets around her in an attempt to cover the absolute massacre that surrounded her. 

Micah entered slowly and Mollie stared in fear as he slowly closed the door behind him. His hair was tousled in loose curls and he had on a cream coloured long sleeved shirt beneath his dark waistcoat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows giving him an air of relaxation. A dark neatly folded ascot adorned his pale elegant neck and in his arms was a crystal bowl filled with a steaming liquid and a tray of various assortments. 

His eyes flickered to Mollie and shifted quickly to the duvet which Mollie had tightly pulled around herself. She saw his face flush and he shifted uncomfortably as he made his way towards her. Mollie stared in surprise at the clean and spotless room that only hours ago had been decorated in pieces of precious gems and shards of scattered glass. It was so clean…Mollie wondered if she had imagined the entire events of last night. Had it been a dream?

The painful surge of firing nerves that erupted from between her legs however, reminded her that it was all too real. 

The prince placed the bowl and the tray beside Mollie and she watched as he awkwardly cleared his throat. Had Mollie not felt so miserable, she would have found his obvious discomfort greatly amusing. 

He was purposely avoiding her eyes and Mollie watched as he carefully unfolded the garment he had draped over his arm and laid it out for Mollie on the chaise in his room. 

“Get dressed Mollie Mae,” he said quietly. 

The sublime, elegant and painfully cold prince was back on display for Mollie to see and she stared at him. Mollie didn't think it was possible but his face had gone even more pink as he finally met her eyes. “I’ll be back in a moment to take you down for breakfast.” 

With another brief glance around the room Micah left her to her thoughts and the door to his quarters closed with a snap. 

Mollie lay there for a few moments longer letting the events of last night settle in her mind like suspended sediment after a turbulent vortex. She looked at the glass bowl the prince had brought in that came equipped with a soft cloth rag and several thin towels. She looked gratefully at the tray he had brought and eyed the delicate steaming liquid that simmered within the delicate china. Mollie could't reach for the tea fast enough and she downed the herbal tea in several quick gulps. Her mother had told her that herbal tea was a classic remedy to subside menstrual pain and she felt herself blush at the prince’s gesture. 

He had taken his frustration out on her last night and Mollie was shaken. Whatever had happened earlier the previous night was enough to send him into a crippling rage that usurped all of his usually meticulously composed emotions. On top of that, Mollie fuelled his anger by lying to him. Although he appeared calm and utterly composed when he walked in only moments ago, Mollie could still see the glint of poorly concealed frustration in his eyes. 

Instead of taking steps forward with Micah, she had taken ten steps back and she had to find a way to get herself back on track. Mollie hoped she hadn’t ruined her chances for good. Micah always appeared displeased, but the look on his face today when he had entered the room showed signs of something more… it was a look of fatigue and utter disappointment and she felt her throat swell. She needed to focus now.

She had a new goal in mind, one that was even more radical than the first, and god help how she would possibly find a way to mend her fragile relationship with the new CEO of the Lyon Regime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering making a playlist for the story. Any suggestions?? Also, has it seriously already been 20 chapters?! This is nuts.


	21. Scandium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie is willing to do anything to get the answers she deserves.

Breakfast was a swirling mixture of plain awkwardness and painstaking silence. 

Micah barely said a word and shut down any sort of conversation Mollie tried to make. Mollie suspected he was still fuming at her brazenness from last night and she avoided eye contact. She also had her reservations about what went on before Micah’s outburst. Mollie was convinced his foul mood was attributed to tensions between other members of the royals and his promotion. 

The words exchanged between them were curt and short and Mollie watched out of the corner of her eye as Micah opted for only a single glass of brandy. Mollie couldn’t remember a time when she had seen the prince eat in public and she wondered if it was some sort of tradition she didn’t know about. Regardless, Mollie found it immensely unsettling.

Mollie found herself being escorted back to her original quarters in the West wing. The prince didn't accompany her. 

***

It had been over a week and Mollie was losing hope. Esperanza seemed more tight lipped as she returned to oversee Mollie and the girl felt as if her stay at Questershire Manor would soon be coming to an end. The coldness radiated off of everyone she passed through the manor and she felt the hollowness of a great depression set within her. She had memorized every wall, edge, and vertex that surrounded her and she found herself going through the wardrobes and the drawers as a way to stifle her unbearable boredom. 

One morning, Mollie was attempting to re-read a certain novel from the little library she had already gone through thrice over, and in her rage she threw the book against the wall. Her seclusion was eating away at her psyche again and she hated what the prince was doing to her. She knew he was just prolonging her torment ever since their toxic confrontation on the night of the White Ball. She had thought he had put her through all she had to endure that night when he roughly forced her to submit to him. But she knew Micah was aware of how much she dreaded being locked away and he was proving a point.

He had complete control over her and he could make her life a living hell if he saw it fit. 

She sighed and miserably went to pick up the book from where it had hit the wall and fallen somewhere behind her bedframe. Mollie placed her hands on the heavy bed and pushed. The sound of metal grinding against floor echoed through the air. As she went to move the frame forward she spotted an interesting marking that had been chipped into the wall. Mollie was ever so curious, and after several failed attempts at pushing the four poster bed forward, she had managed to push it far enough to squeeze herself in through the back and get a closer look. 

The chippings seemed childish. They were markings reminiscent of youthful handwriting. Mollie brushed her fingers over the markings and read what had been engraved into the wall. 

_Belle Lyon_

As Mollie looked closer she saw that the Lyon had been scratched out and another name put underneath. 

_Belle Sommer_

As Mollie inched even closer, she saw this too had been scratched out. Mollie continued on through the list until one single name was left with the idle handwriting appearing more delicate and more fancy. Whoever had etched these names into the wall had spent more time on the last one. 

_Belle Raiden_

Mollie brushed her fingers over the name. It appeared as if whoever this Belle was had been deciding on surnames. The juvenile nature of her handwriting suggested she had also been very young.

Mollie felt her chest constrict painfully. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had been a prisoner of this room. She wondered if all those unfortunate souls before her ever regained their freedom again. With her stomach in knots she freed herself from behind the bed and took a couple of breaths. 

She pushed the breakfast Esperanza had brought for her earlier to the side and held her head in her hands. She had lost her appetite. 

***

Micah hadn’t come to see Mollie in over a week now and he never came to check on her either. Instead of feeling relief she felt a cold tremor run down her spine. Without him, she was suspended bait among a swirling circle of ravenous sharks. 

Perhaps she had seen too much and he decided to lock her away forever. She would be no different from those people James had shown her in the basement. Her fate was not unparalleled to theirs. Or maybe he had plans to kill her quietly, by someone else’s hand. He could easily arrange for that with only the snap of his fingers. There was not even a window in her room to tell if it was night or day outside and Mollie simply sat in the middle of the spacious room absent-mindedly running her fingers through her too long hair and going over scenario after scenario in her head. She desperately needed a cut, her thick locks were brushing her hip bones at this point. 

Mollie had a week till the supplies ship came to Questershire Manor and the girl grappled with her options.

If she did leave, she would be considered another failure. She would be another statistic of the Insurgency that couldn’t quite achieve what they had hoped and for some unknown reason, the prospect of leaving this legacy behind her bothered her. She had reached the pedestal after a treacherous journey and she had ruined it in less than a second with her overconfidence and her fearlessness. Micah had told her the first time he held a conversation with her that she had been capricious. And though Mollie hated to admit it, he had been right.

Esperanza had come in to her room as she had been pacing and Mollie watched as the old woman bowed her head and avoided eye contact. Mollie was tired of it. 

“Where is Mic- I mean the prince?” 

Esperanza looked at her sternly as she scooped Mollie’s various scattered clothing from the week into her overfilling basket of cloths and linens. 

“Master Lyon is attending to his business. He has lots of work to do now that he manages all of the finances of the company,” she sniffed.

Mollie thought about this carefully. She had formulated an idea, a dangerous one, but she had little choice. Staying another day pacing her cold bare room and going over countless scenarios would push her over the edge of insanity. 

“What business is he attending to?” Mollie asked Esperanza as the old woman began the transition of changing her sheets. 

Esperanza gave her a warning glare.

“Are you playing twenty questions with me child?” she asked sending a gust of wind towards Mollie as the woman dusted her duvet.

Mollie frowned. 

“It’s not like I have anyone else to play with,” she replied with a scowl. 

The older woman ignored her and continued to clean up the mess in Mollie’s room. Mollie was used to keeping her clothes and her belongings in one single place. She had grown up having to do that in her small apartment that barely had enough room for two. All this extra space she now had access to was daunting and foreign to her. 

The young girl perked up when she saw the thin light filtering in through her normally closed bedroom door. “Maybe we can take a walk outside today?” Mollie asked hopefully as Esperanza continued making her bed. 

The old woman regarded Mollie closely and Mollie felt as if her stare lingered a little too long. 

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Esperanza murmured. She bunched the old sheets together and proceeded to stuff them in in her overflowing basket of linen that she had carried around with her. 

Mollie looked at the woman challengingly. 

“Master Lyon said I could walk the grounds anytime I wanted to. All I had to do was ask you.”

Mollie heard the sharp exhale before she had even finished her sentence and she felt a small bit of triumph within her.

The older woman approached Mollie slowly and Mollie was surprised when the woman brushed a tender stroke against her cheek. She was expecting the woman to have her usual tight lipped frown on her face but the expression lining her features was one of gentleness and motherly warmth. 

“You remind me so much of my Pénélope,” she said with a sad smile. “She must be around your age by now. She was quite a handful. Very free spirited like you.” 

Mollie swallowed the lump in her throat as the woman dropped her hand from her cheek. Mollie could tell from the first time she had met the older woman that she was a mother. These things you could just tell. There was a warmth to them that other woman didn’t have. Mollie had never known what it was to feel that comfort, that affection from her own mother. She had been robbed of that all her life. 

“I have one more room to finish then we may stroll the gardens. In the meantime wait for me in the parlour.” 

Mollie watched as the woman paused for a moment before adding another comment.

“Oh and child, please keep to yourself this time. You attract enough attention as it is.”

***

Mollie had grown accustomed to the parlour room by now and she circled the room observing the details more closely. Esperanza had rummaged in the wardrobes of her room through the layers upon layers of gowns and dresses that hung within Mollie’s room. She had found a pretty pale yellow cloak with a hood for Mollie to wear and insisted she wear it when she went outside to brave the light wind. 

It looked as if it hadn’t been worn in years when Esperanza found it at the back of the wardrobe and shook out the dust that had settled on the top of it. The cloak appeared a bit juvenile in Mollie’s opinion but it was undoubtedly beautiful. Within the cloak were intricately threaded sparkles and a silver design that glinted in the sunlight. 

As Mollie looked closer she saw that lining the silvery material that threaded through the cloak were real stones and precious gems. Mollie was able to identify citrine, chrysoberyl and several yellow diamonds and sapphires. The other gems that lined her collar and edges of the cloak were a mystery to her. Mollie believed it may have belonged to one of the girl or girls that had previously occupied the room. 

It was an expensive garment that Mollie would never have been able to afford. Esperanza clapped her hands together when Mollie had tried it on and insisted the bright colour made her skin glow. 

It fit her perfectly and Mollie was a bit taken aback. Usually everything Mollie wore was short on her due to her height, but it was as if the cloak were made for someone with legs as long as Mollie’s. The pockets of fur lining the inside of the cloak were the softest Mollie had ever felt and she figured it must have been made of sable or chinchilla. The thought made her frown but Mollie decided to wear the garment nevertheless. 

Mollie took a look at the wide windows that faced in the direction of the cliffs and she shuddered. Why anyone would think of building a monstrosity of a home on the edge of a cliff was beyond her. 

Mollie heard voices from outside the room in the foyer and she quickly shuffled towards the closed door. The voices were muffled but one of them sounded vaguely familiar to her. She pressed her eye against the key hole and saw long towering legs leading to the figure of a well dressed dark haired man. His back was to her and Mollie recognized the chuckle that erupted from the man with his back to her.

_Rowan._

He was conversing with that man she kept seeing at all of these ridiculous extravagant Lyon events. His name was Solanio if Mollie remembered correctly. 

Mollie watched as Solanio leaned in to brush a tender kiss along the neck of the second oldest prince and she felt her eyes narrow. If she remembered correctly she could have sworn she saw Rowan getting hot and heavy with some of the higher class women when she followed Esperanza down to the kitchen quarters one evening. Now he was back with his man caressing and kissing him like he was the only person in the world he yearned for.

 _“Maintenant?”_ the raven haired man said with a gasp as he clutched the arm of the prince in front of him. 

_“Ouias,”_ Rowan said with a soft peck at his neck. _“Pourquoi pas?”_

Solanio sighed against his lover and fisted his hand in the neatly combed hair of the second Lyon. 

_“Un autre chose,”_ he added. _“Peux-tu prendre soin de mon chat pendant mon voyage au Mont Blanc demain? Lui faire des câlins?”_

Rowan chuckled for a moment and Mollie stared at the scene before her. 

_“Toujours mon amour,”_ Rowan whispered trailing kisses down the other mans cheek. 

Mollie rolled her eyes as she saw Rowan grip Solanio’s manhood firmly between his fingers for a brief moment and palm him through his trousers before planting another tender kiss on the other man’s lips. 

“What a manwhore,” she muttered to herself as she watched Solanio wink at his lover and walk in the opposite direction. Mollie could have guessed Rowan was a standardless slut but the extent of it was still a question to Mollie. 

Although she hated him, Mollie had a plan and she couldn’t let her disgust for the Lyons, any of them, get in the way of it. 

With a single huff she pushed open the doors to the parlour and cringed when they slammed against the outer wall with an echoing thud. 

Mollie cursed internally. She was _already_ off to a poor start.

Despite the raucous sound she had created to disturb the peaceful silence of the foyer Rowan turned himself around to face her slowly. 

He didn’t seem surprised to see her and Mollie saw that sly glint flicker in his eyes as he looked her up and down. He did so in a brash manner and Mollie could see his brow raise slightly when he took in Mollie’s attire. 

“Getting a taste of the luxuries the Questershire Manor has to offer I see,” he said with a smirk. “Always a slight improvement in appearance when I come across you Mollie. You know how to make quite the entrance.” 

Mollie blushed despite the disdain that laced through her. He looked handsome today in his dapper navy waistcoat and matching ascot. His cheeks were tinged pink from his previous engagement and Mollie looked away. 

“You certainly look the part, but you still have work to do in acting the part,” he said with a chuckle eyeing the doors she had so clumsily swung open. “But baby steps I suppose.” 

Mollie ignored him and shook off the humiliation. Rowan always had a way of making her feel like a grass stain underneath his shoe. 

“What were you doing in there all by yourself” he said softly eyeing the room behind her curiously. “Snooping again are we? You’re more like a mouse than I ever thought.” He tucked a dark brown curl that had fallen free from Mollie’s neatly combed hair behind her ear. The cool leather of his glove swiped her cheek and she watched as his lips curve upwards. _“Une petite souris.”_

Mollie felt an icy feeling overtake her as his dark emotionless eyes bore into her own. Did he know something she didn’t? His eyes seemed to go a shade darker as he intensified his stare. She felt as if he were undressing her with his eyes. It made a horrible stringy bile rise in her throat and she swallowed with difficulty. 

“Were you snooping on me Miss Mollie?” He said with a grin that made Mollie’s knees tremble in fear. “Baby brother couldn’t satisfy your womanly needs after all?” He laughed at this and Mollie grit her teeth. He walked closer to her so his frame towered over and he had to tilt his head down to address her. “I didn’t think so. Micah fucks like a virgin on her wedding night.”

Mollie cringed at his tone and she squirmed uncomfortably. She desperately needed to turn the conversation over.

“I…I wanted to ask you something…Master Lyon,” she added dropping her gaze in respect. 

Mollie saw interest flicker in his dark eyes and she felt her palms begin to sweat. He took his time before he answered, but his eyes never left her face.

“How lovely. How can I be of assistance?”

Mollie wondered how Rowan still managed to turn her question into a question before she could even ask her question. 

“I was wondering if you could take me to Prince Micah’s quarters,” she said feeling pleased when her voice came out clear and tremor free. 

Rowan paused after he heard this and Mollie watched the curve of his pink lips. He looked like a doll with his painted smile and blank eyes and Mollie knew there were several gears turning in his mind in spite of his placid expression. 

“I see,” he said after some time. He had a shrewdness to his features and Mollie saw curiosity gleam in his dark eyes. “I’m not sure if you are aware Mollie, but only royals have the privilege of demanding to see their subjects.” 

Mollie felt her blood run cold and she felt foolish. His expression didn’t change and Mollie felt the heat flood her cheeks for the second time during their encounter.

“I just…need to talk to him that’s all,” she said wanly. 

“Ahh,” Rowan said with a nod of his head, as if he understood her plight. “You’re not the first to demand a meeting with the youngest prince one on one.”  
Something solidified within Rowan Lyon’s dark eyes and Mollie couldn’t quite place the emotion. 

He leaned in even closer and Mollie could feel his breath brush against the top of her forehead. 

“Women just throw themselves at him. It’s all just a game to him really. A game that gets boring rather quickly.” 

Mollie had the feeling Rowan was referring to himself with that last comment more than he was his brother and she clenched her jaw in irritation.

“And why wouldn’t a prince take advantage of such opportunities? He is free to do whatever he so desires.”

Mollie stayed silent. 

“What’s the matter Mollie? Has the honeymoon phase come to a close?”

His smile had widened into something more ominous but Mollie chose to ignore his taunts and jabs.

“I have no interest in those kinds of matters with the prince,” she said hotly feeling an ache within her nether regions. “My concerns with the prince are…business related. He is the new CEO of the monarchy after all.”

Mollie wasn’t sure why she decided to settle on business as a matter of conversation, but it always seemed to work. She had an inkling that business would be the last thing on Micah’s mind when it came to her. 

Rowan poorly suppressed a smile as he regarded Mollie. Whatever Rowan was feeling at the moment, he was doing an expert job at concealing his emotions. Mollie could see nothing but a soft display of courtesy and indulgence across his sculpted face. 

“A commoner wanting to discuss business with a prince,” he stated amusedly. “If you insist.” 

Mollie winced as he brushed his pale fingers against her warm cheek and she shifted uncomfortably under his watchful gaze. 

“But what will I get in return Miss Mollie?” His hand had lowered towards her neck and Mollie froze as he lifted a lock of her dark hair and twisted it within his fingers. 

Mollie was a little stunned by his question.

“I…I don’t have anything to offer…” she stumbled as she shivered under Rowan’s relentless gaze. “I don’t own anything-,”

Rowan brushed her response off quickly. “I’m not talking money,” he said dismissing the topic immediately, “I’m referring to what _you_ can do for _me_.”

Mollie stared at him, completely bewildered, as he smiled down at her. He seemed to enjoy watching her stumble and blush under his gaze and she looked up at him with a sharp exhale, trying her best to mask her frustration. 

“There’s no rush _ma chérie,”_ he said with light-hearted laugh. “I’ll let you think about what a good exchange for this little arrangement may be. If I require my payment sooner than expected I’ll know exactly where to find you.” 

Mollie felt the dampness accumulate on her palms and she quickly slid them across her dress as the prince held an arm out for her.

She always felt on edge in the presence of Rowan and she could feel the goosebumps erupt against her skin as she placed her hand on his gloved one. 

Mollie walked alongside Rowan as they exited the foyer and entered another longer corridor lined with faded portraits. Mollie’s eyes jumped from wall to wall as she took in the different faces that lined the corridor. She had never been down this corridor before. She spotted the entrance to the dining room and felt a tingle down her spine. She _had_ been here before, just below ground. Most of them were of older men with a scroll in their hand or their hands placed gently on their laps. Some were of woman too, in long flowing gowns and beautiful sparkling crowns atop of their heads. She could feel Rowan watching her out of the corner of her eyes and she tried not to appear overly inquisitive. 

Mollie was surprised when Rowan walked them through two fancy doors to their right that lead to the manor grounds. Mollie looked at him confusedly and Rowan simply smirked. 

“I thought Master Lyon was in his quarters?” she said confusedly looking back behind them as Rowan continued guiding her across the lush green landscape of the grounds.

He chuckled lowly.

“You thought wrong.”

Mollie really didn’t know if she could trust him and she hoped she hadn’t signed off her signature on her own death sentence. Mollie had yet to see a side of Rowan that was as masochistic as James or as unpredictable In nature as Micah. She hoped she would never have to. 

The fresh air was a relief to Mollie as the wind stroked through her dark brown curls and Mollie was thankful the old woman had insisted she wear a cloak. There was a light chill in the air that flooded through the dense foliage every now and again but the coolness was a relief on her heated skin. 

Rowan had extremely long strides and Mollie stumbled once or twice as she tightened her grip on his arm. 

_“S’il te plait, fais attention où tu mets les pieds.”_

Mollie scowled as he chuckled lightly. 

_“Peux-tu parler français Mollie?”_

“What do you think?” she muttered as Rowan laughed beside her. French was a language of the wealthy. She had picked up on enough of it at the bakery to get by, especially when consulting wealthy customers who preferred french over "tainted" english. The rich were willing to do anything to distance themselves from the poor. 

“In time you will learn…that is if you stay long enough.”

Rowan and Mollie had stepped past the clearing towards the rocky terrain just a stretch further from the Lyon gardens.

As Mollie squinted in the distance she spotted the youngest prince. He was dressed quite casually in a loose white dress shirt and slim black trousers. His caramel locks were loose and flowing in the light breeze. His back was facing the two of them and it looked as if he we were waiting for something near the forest edge. 

“Tread lightly Mollie,” Rowan whispered as caressed the back of her neck. “Play dangerous games win dangerous prizes.” 

Mollie took a deep breath as Rowan left her at the edge of the clearing. Mollie watched his figure grow increasingly smaller as he disappeared into the greenery lining the Lyon gardens until his figure was just another speck amongst the grey skyline.

Mollie sighed as she turned towards the clearing. She took a deep breath and with her heart in her throat she shuffled forwards. 

Micah seemed deep in thought as he stared into the forest in front of him. Mollie hesitated at the edge of the pathway, teetering on the brink of indecisiveness for some time before she decided to approach him. 

“Master Lyon,” she said quietly.

Mollie watched as he took a deep breath. He still had his back to her and Mollie felt her hands begin to sweat. He didn’t respond but Mollie knew she had heard him.

It was the most casual Mollie had ever seen him and he seemed strangely calm.

He whistled into the forest and Mollie picked her head up. She heard the padding of something large and heavy making its way through the trees and she stood absolutely paralyzed, as the largest animal she had ever seen charged full force straight for her. 

Mollie was absolutely stunned and she stumbled backwards blindly as the creature snarled at her before becoming submissive by a quick hand gesture from the prince. Mollie yelped as it bared its teeth in her direction. She had taken several steps backwards and unknowingly, they had led her deeper into the muddy pathway disappearing into the thick foliage. She was as far away from the manor as she'd ever been since her first day here in mid November. 

_She could escape._

She looked behind her and back at the prince who was watching her. He had a pale hand resting lightly on the head of the beast beside him. Its ice blue eyes were fixed on Mollie. Mollie thought it looked like an abnormally large dog at first, but the more she stared it the more doubtful she became.

Her eyes flickered to the prince. 

There was something in Micah’s stance that was eerily inquisitive and a darkness in his challenging stare. He was too casual, too relaxed, with his other hand resting lightly in his pocket and his thick locks playing with the light breeze. 

He wanted her to run. 

Mollie stiffened slowly. The call of freedom was a desperate whisper in her ear but the consequences of her actions played through her mind. Her gaze flickered to the beast that curled its lip when Mollie looked it in its eye. She had no doubt that beast would have her for a snack if it caught her in its grip. 

She held her ground as Micah turned his attention to the creature beside him. He murmured something to the animal which once again took off, this time in the direction of the manor. Mollie watched quietly as its thick coat rippled with every stretch of muscle that flexed as it scampered across the open fields. It was beautiful, its silvery grey coat sparkling like a pearl within the sandy depths of the ocean floor. It disappeared around the perimeter of the Lyon gardens and Mollie was now truly alone with the prince. 

He wore that frown she resented so much on his fine features and she bit her lip. Although he appeared frigid in stature, he was lucid and this was enough to placate Mollie.

“We need to talk,” she said bluntly folding her arms around her body.

He raised an eyebrow when she said this and Mollie watched as he took in her attire. There was nothing but the cool wind whipping through their hair and the sigh of the great oak trees around them to contribute to the gnawing silence between them. Micah closed his eyes and Mollie noticed some colour was back in his cheeks. 

She hated how she noticed these things. She hated how much she cared about them. 

The prince’s tone was harsh and prickly when he responded. 

“You take liberties Mollie, even after all this time.” 

Mollie jerked at the sound. 

He seemed irritated but Mollie was not to be swayed. She went through too much for her to be dismissed once again.

“I had to see you,” she argued trying to justify her position. “Seeing as you wouldn’t see me.”

Mollie saw his chest expand and relax slowly. He seemed to have recovered his fiercely pedantic qualities.

He was in control.

This was her chance. Her opportunity to get the answers she had so desperately craved since their first chance encounter.

“I’ve been…preoccupied,” he said smoothly. He sounded so formal, so rehearsed. He had slipped both his hands into his pockets at this point and had turned his body towards Mollie so he was fully addressing her. He slowly opened his eyes. “I didn’t forget about you if that’s what you were thinking.”

Mollie frowned.

“It sure seemed like it,” she said bitterly, looking at everything around her but the prince. “It’s horrible,” she muttered remembering how slow the days seemed to go when all she had for company were four large walls. “It’s horrible being held prisoner in there like some sort of animal.”

He had a half smile on his lips when he said this as if he were enjoying some secret joke. 

“Punishments aren’t supposed to be enjoyable Mollie,” he said matter of factly. 

Mollie didn’t want to bring up their last disaster of a conversation. She was desperate to move past it, to see if maybe she still had a chance at cracking the tough exterior of Micah Lyon.

“What do you want from me?” she asked stepping closer to the prince. He opened his eyes when he heard her shoes crunch against the crispy leaves below them. She had alluded to this question in the past and Micah always managed to rebuff her.

They were far enough from the manor that the underbrush and fallen leaves of the forest littered the green grass below them. They were beyond the boundaries of the manor and maintenance of the grounds simply did not venture all the way to the forests edge. 

Mollie felt stronger here, as if she had nature on her side. The artificialness of Questershire manor didn’t exist here. And neither did her status. As long as she was beyond the reach of the manor, her autonomy was hers to dictate. 

Micah’s eyes mirrored the green foliage around her and she was drawn into its very depths. His gaze was softer now…less steely than when she first approached him. 

“I would have thought you’d know by now Mollie.”

Mollie shot him a questioning stare. He sighed as he approached her and she watched as he held an arm out for her. 

“May I?” 

He appeared so charming...so refined...so elegant and Mollie felt herself blush. 

_“Reel him in Mollie, don’t let him reel you. And by God’s hell don’t fall for him.”_

Isaac’s words fluttered through her mind as she found herself staring at the handsome man standing in front of her, his arm extended, waiting for her to join him.

_Think about the other woman. All the other woman he has used and abused._

Mollie swallowed uneasily and slipped her arm through his. His cologne wafted towards her and she struggled to maintain her composure. She knew how those arms felt around her waist, how his hard body felt when it was moulded against her own. She suddenly felt as if she were boiling in her new cloak despite the chill in the air. She _didn't_ like him and she _wouldn't_ fall for him.

“You never asked me how I knew where to find you,” she said conversationally as they began their walk back to the manor. She hoped he didn’t notice her blazing cheeks and too warm temperature of her skin against his. 

Micah smiled. 

“Indeed,” he said helping her over a patch of uneven ground.

She glanced up at him in confusion. He was always so mysterious. It drove Mollie crazy. She wished he were more straightforward, more frank and unfiltered…like her. 

“You’re not curious?” 

“Not at all.” 

Mollie fell silent after this as they continued their trek up the green rolling hills. The manor was growing larger and larger in the distance, like a tsunami reaching its greatest peak in the sky. 

“Let me guess, you already know.” 

Her tone was sour and Mollie hated the smirk on his face.

“It’s forbidden to leave the grounds without alerting another member of the monarchy of a royals whereabouts,” he explained. 

Mollie was surprised. She was under the impression royals were able to do whatever they pleased. 

“Forbidden?” Mollie emphasized. “What would happen if you did it anyways?”

Micah shot her a look.

“It would be foolish to do so. These rules are in place for our own safety.”

He paused for a brief moment when he said this.

“Safety?” she questioned.

Micah sighed. 

“From the day we were born, my brothers and I, all being potential heirs to govern the monarchy, were overseen, monitored and shadowed every day of our lives. Trust is not something that is taken lightly within the monarchy.”

Mollie listened quietly. 

“When we come of age these rules become less stringent. There is more flexibility between what we can and cannot do. But at the same time certain laws…certain traditions must still be held.” 

If Mollie had remembered correctly, Rowan had told her a prince was free to do what he pleased. 

“But Rowan said-,”

“Never mind what Rowan says,” Micah muttered. That irritation was creeping into his tone again and Mollie watched as he brushed his fingers through his hair. “Not everything Rowan says is applicable to every situation.”

“So he lied?” Mollie pressed as they began their ascent up the rocky vine laden staircase to the manor. She should have known by now that artifice was second nature to the second Lyon. 

“No,” Micah said curtly as he matched her pace on the stairwell. “Rowan’s circumstances are different from my own, different from James. He isn’t responsible for the same duties as I am. Some of us have more freedom in different pursuits than others.”

Mollie considered this carefully. It seemed as if Rowan had the most flexibility within the monarchy at the moment. Mollie would have believed the second Lyon to be bitter at neither leading any corporation nor governing any segment of the regime. No wonder he seemed so pleased at the Ball that night…he was enjoying all the fruits of the monarchy without having to make sacrifices himself. 

“I thought the responsibilities of the monarchy were based on birth order,” Mollie asked as they rounded a corner. 

Micah frowned when she said this and she wondered what was going through his mind. He was quiet for too long and Mollie wondered if she had angered him.

“Apparently not,” he said brusquely. 

They rounded another corner and Mollie heard the faint sounds of clattering dishes and heavy footfalls from above. It sounded as if the scullions were being put to work hard. They were inching closer and closer to the manor. 

“What about you Mollie Mae?” he asked after some time fixing those green eyes on hers. “Did you have siblings?”

Mollie didn’t like when the conversation took a turn about herself. There was something uncomfortable about discussing the sad less than mediocre life one lived, with someone who lived a life of luxury. 

“There’s nothing much to know about me,” she murmured tucking her windblown hair behind her ears. “I don’t have siblings. It’s just been my mother and I since I was four.” 

“And before that with your grandparents, correct?” Micah asked.

Mollie dropped her gaze. She had forgotten that she had told him these things weeks ago. When they had spent the night together at the cabin in the woods.

“Yes, I lived with my grandparents on my mothers side,” she continued. I was born in Riverton, we lived there for some time before other matters forced us to migrate to Chartery.”

“Riverton,” Micah repeated with a smile on his face. “The countryside. I didn’t know you were a country girl Mollie Mae.”

Mollie stifled an eyeroll. That information was written on her status card which the prince had burned the first night he met her. 

“And what of your mother now?” he asked. 

She felt the clamminess begin to set in within her hands and she hated the intensity at which Micah was staring at her. She wondered why he even cared so much in the first place. 

“I..I’m not sure,” she stumbled. She was being honest with him. She didn’t know whether her mother was okay…whether she was dead or alive. Mollie felt guilty for not thinking about it more but the bitterness she still harboured in her heart towards the woman was undeniable. “I haven’t seen my mother since I left home.” 

They had reached the grand entrance of the manor where the warm glow of the setting sun brushed the tips of the expansive forest that lay just beyond the perimeter of the fortress. The sun cast strokes of pink and orange across the sky and Mollie admired the various splashes of colour that were painted across the blue canvas. 

So much beauty lay just outside the walls that held her captive. 

“This view is breathtaking,” she murmured. “It’s incomparable.” The various colours in the sky were mirrored in the still waters that lay below the cliffs edge making it seem as if the sparkling water was filled with gems that splashed and glittered across the rough rocks with each growing tide that lingered and receded.

Mollie jumped when cool fingers made their way under her pale yellow cloak to stroke her stiff shoulders that lay concealed upon her many layers of clothing.

“I beg to differ,” he murmured planting a soft kiss against her neck. He stood directly behind her, his chin brushing her head and his firm torso against her back. She could feel his eyes on her as he kissed in circuits against her pulse point and Mollie felt her insides clench. Whether it was with fear or desire she did not know. 

Mollie didn’t turn to look at him. She was afraid of what emotions would bubble inside of her. She had to hold on to that raw burning hate that she had fed and nurtured for so long. She had to replay in her mind all of the things he had done to her in the past. The horrible things.

_But he had been good to her too._

“Stop thinking so hard fawn,” he whispered bringing her long dark hair behind her to fall against her back. “Savour the beauty of the moment. You never know if you’ll live to see another.”

Mollie shivered as he slid his hands around her waist and rested his chin lightly on the top of her head. They stood like that together, watching the wide semi circle of the sun disappear beneath the canopy of the leaves until the first stars of nightfall began to dot the darkening sky. 

Something caught Mollie's eye by the thin stream near the gardens that emptied into the estuary on the banks of the giant residence. It was the giant dog and Mollie watched as it lapped heavily from the cool stream, its thick coat billowing in the breeze. 

"Is he yours?" Mollie asked as the prince tightened his hold on her waist.

"Yes," he said quietly. "She's mine. My brothers and I came across the pups during our time spent in the North. There were four...but the youngest one didn't make it." 

Mollie listened to his musing. He had a soothing slightly husky voice when he was relaxed. She liked hearing him speak.

"What kind of animal is she?" Mollie asked as she watched the creature chase the birds that had settled to graze on the grass behind it. It looked carefree and a little playful. Mollie felt silly for having been afraid of it before. 

"She's a Wolamute," he said softly. "A true product of the North." 

Mollie now understood why the animal was so large. These creatures were half wolf and incredibly rare. They could only be found within the harshest conditions of North, where temperatures were well below -30 degrees Celsius. But no one in their right mind would even attempt to tame a wolamute, it was like trying to tame a lion and keep it as a pet. The concept seemed ludicrous to Mollie.

"How did you tame her? That must have taken years." Mollie was truly in awe. She saw how submissive it had been with the prince earlier. It respected him and it guarded him as if he were her own kind.

Mollie felt Micah's chest shake against her back as he laughed at her question.

"I don't really regard it as taming," he said after some time. "When we came across the pups all those years ago, we brought them back to the fortress. We found their mother days later. She was a rare polar white wolf. She had been hunted and her furs stripped of the rich pelt. Her meat had been extracted and her blood splayed out on the snow. The snow was stained red for days after."

Mollie felt her heart ache at his vivid description.

"Father was against us taking in the pups. He believed it disrupted the natural processes of life." Mollie felt him smile from behind her. "But Rowan was able to convince him otherwise. He can be rather persuasive."

Mollie grimaced against him.

"Father allowed it under the condition that we take full responsibility for the animal. It would be ours to train, ours to nurture, ours to command."

Mollie was tempted to turn around and observe his expression but she held herself still. She didn't want him to stop speaking.

"I was thirteen at the time. James and Rowan took the two male pups who appeared stronger and sturdier...I took Theo as my own. She was small and sickly at first, but she blossomed beautifully."

Mollie watched as the wolf hybrid suddenly stopped scampering across the grounds and had settled on curling herself up near the clear stream. Mollie estimated she must have been at least 175 pounds.

"Where are her brothers?" she whispered, watching as the beast closed its eyes and sighed in content.

Mollie felt Micah stiffen behind her ever so slightly.

"James' wolf accompanied him to the West. Rowan's enjoys roaming the mountains. Its curiosity is difficult to subdue."

He gave Mollie a little squeeze when he said this and she shifted to look back at him. His eyes were fixed on her and she felt her face warm in spite of the cool breeze hitting her cheeks.

He peppered kisses against her forehead, and squeezed her comfortingly. He made her feel as if she were the most beautiful thing in his world. He checked every box and Mollie understood in that moment why every girl before her had succumbed to the advances of the prince. He was a master in the art of seduction and coquetry. That much she knew. But he was also a master in the art of temptation and this terrified Mollie more than she wanted to admit. 

Caleb had been wrong. He hadn’t thrown Mollie to the sharks to be eaten and pulled apart flesh by flesh by carnivores who relished in the gustation of its victims. He had placed her in the centre of a courtship ritual and demanded she ignore the incessant mating calls of the covetous critters that surrounded her, the circle getting smaller and smaller with each passing day.


	22. Titane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The state of the Lyon monarchy is up for question and Mollie learns a truth about Micah that changes everything.

Esperanza had finished her work early and she sighed as she slumped to her quarters below ground. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she had finished her duties before 23:00. She exhaled once again when she entered the common room where the other royal staff members quickly jumped to their feet. Esperanza gave them all a nod and they all cut off their previously chirpy conversations.

Esperanza liked to think that they did this out of respect for her, but she knew their fear of her was the predominating factor when it came to their submissiveness. She was the longest running member of the royal family since Paisley passed away 8 months ago. She had formed a close and rather intimate relationship with the elderly woman. With the older woman gone Esperanza found no one else she could trust. She had lost her only confidant and the burdens she would share with the woman were now hers to bear alone. Esperanza would be lying if she said she wasn’t bitter. These new staff members were lazy in Esperanza’s opinion and they always finished hours earlier than their designated scheduled time slots. It drove the older woman mad with frustration. She had worked and laboured for years, even during her youth.

However with Paisley gone, Esperanza found herself of more interest to his Grace. He had requested all of his staff to refer to him in this manner and it had become habit to the old woman. He sent his personal guard to see to more of Esperanza’s demands and all her children now held managerial positions and were able to move from their small village into the bustling hub of the wealthier cities in the South. 

Although Esperanza’s pay remained stagnant, her treatment had certainly improved over the years. Her quarters although still small were not as cramped as her colleagues and her meals had been of much higher quality than she was used to. Under regular circumstances, Esperanza would have been pleased at these changes, but instead the changes made her deeply uncomfortable. 

The Lyons did nothing out the kindness of their hearts. 

They wanted something from her. They needed her. Esperanza had a hunch that loyalties were being greatly questioned. It was no secret that turbulent times were fast approaching. Hartley’s desire to venture into the East had not gone over smoothly. 

The East had always valued their independence and recently, they had managed to partition off land that had previously been under royal rule. The Eastern monarchy had transitioned from an absolute monarchy to a constitutional one.

When the Lyons were presented with the same offer they had refused. 

Esperanza was no silly woman, she could feel the tension emanating from the walls of the castle. The West was static, maintaining its current state of disarray despite the eldest son of his Grace taking over the duties from the late Logan Lyon. In spite of Logan Lyon's notoriously promiscuous reputation, he ran his businesses profitably and it was through the him that the Lyons were able to accumulate such a grand amount of wealth in such a short period of time. Esperanza had yet to see the dynamic leadership seen in Logan Lyon reflected in Hartley's eldest son. The rebellion in the West was dangerously strong and no amount of reassurance from His Grace appeared to be easing the tension of his people. 

Esperanza was aware that Hartley had been reluctant to elect his eldest son to relieve the duties of his brother. It was common knowledge. The boy and his father were as compatible as oil and water.

It was also no secret that his Grace favoured his youngest son.

Micah had received special treatment from his father since he was a young child. Now this wasn't to say that he treated Micah with more tenderness than he did his other sons. No. Hartley was not a tender man, he was as callous and cold as a frozen lake in the middle of an arctic winter. He was so terribly stoic in fact, Esperanza wondered if the man was capable of feeling physical pain at all. 

His actions spoke much louder than his words and he would often reward Micah with more leisure time than his brothers ever received. He allowed the boy to draw, to train his beast, to master the art of fencing. Leisure time was a privilege in the world of the monarchy, even for someone at Esperanza's rank. Somehow, Hartley justified the boy's position. She wondered if it had anything to do with the boy growing up without a mother. However she had her doubts about this...Hartley didn't seem like the type to make amends for things he could not prevent.

She had remembered how severely Hartley had punished James the one time as children when he force fed poor Micah hazel nuts from the hazel trees that surrounded the property. The way James terrorized that boy, the woman would never forget it. Perhaps James was unaware at the time his youngest brother had such a life threatening allergy to the food. But at the back of her mind Esperanza always wondered if he secretly knew.

Either way, James was taken to the Lighthouse for his punishment. Esperanza guessed it must have been almost five full days before Hartley decided to remove him from the awful island. After that incident, Paisley and herself were sworn to secrecy about the condition of young Micah. They were forbidden from ever speaking of it again.

The common room, although on the lower levels of the manor, still had windows that lined the ceiling. Esperanza looked out of the nearest one and she felt her throat swell just thinking about that cursed place. It was a good two hour boat ride from the manor to the island where the lighthouse stood, but somehow the wind carried the screams of its captors all the way back to the property. Paisley and her were the ones to see to the children following their punishments. The boys never said a word but they always came back with deep lacerations that stunned the women into silence. 

Esperanza had cried the first time Micah had been sent to the Lighthouse. He must have been three years old and Esperanza couldn’t help but sob as she cleaned his wounds following his return. He was such a bright and pleasant child. Esperanza couldn’t possibly imagine what must have been so horrible for a three year old prince to have done for Hartley to condemn him to that hellhole. The light flickered as Esperanza watched the Lighthouse from a distance and she shuddered. 

More of the servants began trickling into the small cramped common room and Esperanza had moved herself to the opposite side of the room towards the crackling fireplace. Gruel lay steaming in a cauldron over the fire and she watched as the thin watery layer in the bowl began to sizzle and foam over the heavy black stone. 

It was habit to speak in hushed voices within the castle walls and Esperanza watched as the women removed their uniforms to reveal their thinner robes that lay beneath. Esperanza kept quiet but she still kept her ear open to the gossip that circulated around the house. She had to. Master Micah expected her to relay all of this information straight back to him. 

Most of it was useless gossip, the woman knew better than to speak of forbidden things around Esperanza. However the servants came from very particular villages around the regime. They wrote to their families and sent them money on a daily basis and oftentimes, they would complain about certain grievances within their villages or their overall attitudes towards the monarchy. This was the information she kept her ears open about and this was the information she relayed to the prince. Her own husband had passed away when Esperanza had been pregnant with their third child. On top of this, it was forbidden for a widow to remarry. 

Nonetheless, Esperanza was not bothered by this law. She had loved her husband and the love that remained in her heart for him were to be spent on her children. Her loyalty to the monarchy was not unnoticed and all three of her children worked for various companies across the regime. 

Although the old woman had worked hard to ensure her children would never have to question their tertiary citizenship, she worried about her youngest daughter. 

Unlike her older two, Pénélope was raised without her father, and with Esperanza working far away from their village, the girl was shuffled from relative to relative all her life. She held a bitterness in her heart towards the old woman and no amount of money or apologies seemed to put her youngest daughter at ease. She had that fire in her eyes that unsettled Esperanza, the same fire she saw in that young pretty slave Prince Micah insisted on keeping. 

Esperanza sighed again when she thought about the poor girl in the West Wing. The gossip about her around the manor was never ending and Esperanza felt nervous conveying the things they said about the girl to him. She was under no false illusion that Micah was unaware of this gossip. Either way he appeared stony faced whenever whispers of her crossed his path. 

Esperanza had gotten to know the girl better over these last few months. The girl was young, still in her teens, and if it weren’t for her long legs Esperanza would have guessed she was no more than sixteen. Esperanza had seen the way Prince Micah looked at her. It was the look her husband used to give her before he lay her down on the table and fucked her till she saw constellations forming from behind closed lids.

It was nothing more than lust. 

She had wanted to explain this to him but her position restricted her. It was not in her place to understand or condone his recreational activities. However, now that he had placed the girl under her primary care, Esperanza’s position was blurring the line between restriction and exemption.

There was no doubt the girl was beautiful. She was a “country beauty” as they called them back home. Only the country girls had that dark hair and those long legs. The country folk kept to themselves. She wondered how the girl managed to weasel her way into the world of the monarchy. She remembered how she’d found the girl, legs bent out, hair splayed out and head resting against the rooftops of the manor, as if some deity or higher form had dropped her from the sky into the materialistic world of human beings to seek repentance.

She was not a reared slave of the Lyon manor, this much was obvious. However, Esperanza was still suspicious of her. She brought these concerns to the prince the minute he decided to take her in. She mentioned to young Micah that the girl may have been sent by the rebels to spy, or that she may have been a runaway slave from a previous shipment. The prince was unperturbed by her grievances. Rather, he seemed quite excited by the turn of events…

As much as Esperanza’s position demanded that she remain impassive and detached from her work, she had still grown a little towards the girl. She had an innocence to her the old woman hadn’t seen since her young Pénélope was a little girl. She seemed lost, confused, yet still… hopeful.

It was an odd combination and Esperanza was drawn towards it. She had no doubt Prince Micah had taken a great deal of pleasure from this girl and as much as Esperanza doubted whether the pleasure was reciprocal, it was what it was. Men simply couldn’t help themselves. 

The girl had been reluctant to allow Esperanza to cleanse her the other night. She seemed embarrassed at her nudity, embarrassed that Esperanza knew what she and the prince had been up to. It was comical to the older woman and she found it refreshing. She was different from the girls the Lyons chose for their trading businesses. Those girls were trained to please a man and they showed not the slightest bit of embarrassment at their nudity or their acts of pleasure. 

Esperanza moved to her favourite chair in the corner of the common room and eased herself down. Her years of hard labour were catching up with her and she hated how much her bones ached these days. The warmth from the fire permeated through the room and she closed her eyes briefly enjoying the sensation of the heat on her skin. 

Although Esperanza would never admit it, she worried for the fate of Prince Micah. It was a shock to the monarchy, to the people of the regime that night during the dreadful White Ball the Lyons hosted every year. There was something more to this, Esperanza knew that much. 

Esperanza also knew the prince well. She knew him better than anyone in the castle, daresay, Esperanza believed she knew him better than his damn father. The prince was a master in the art of deception and he knew how to play the role his father laid out for him perfectly.

 _Too_ perfectly in Esperanza’s opinion. 

She sighed as she looked down at the newspaper on the table. It was from the previous morning and the front page was plastered with photos of the youngest prince. She sighed as she stared at his frowning face on the front page. The boy hated the media, hated being in the public eye. He was able to avoid it for so long, playing the part of the man behind the scenes. But His Grace had the final say -- he always did. 

She had seen them the other night by mistake, on her final rounds in the upper levels of the manor. She was the only one with access to these levels and most of the time they were empty. 

But that night, they had been there.

Prince Micah had been on his knees outside His Grace’s corridors as Hartley stood over him. The boy looked wounded, his face wet, with tears or exertion Esperanza could not tell. Yet His Grace looked as he always did, regal, elegant, and utterly composed. Esperanza had fled the minute she saw them from across the hall and didn’t stop running until she reached the kitchen quarters. She never interacted with His Grace directly.

Everything went through a hierarchy. Sir Hartley would never be caught dead looking or even remotely addressing an individual below tertiary status. 

As she sat in her chair and enjoyed the heat of the fire, she replayed that scene in her mind over and over again. Her throat swelled when she thought about it.

Prince Micah had already delayed his coronation-- twice-- since the White Ball had taken place and the old woman knew he would have no other option. He would make the permanent move to The Fortress in the North and pursue his new position from there. Straight away he would be married to his bride and their armies and wealth would be merged together and contributed to the already prosperous Lyon Regime. His Grace had done the hard work setting up his son for the position. It was just a matter of Prince Micah carrying them through to completion. 

She looked sadly at his photo in the paper. 

“Another one happened last night!”

The harsh whisper lurched the older woman from her memories and she turned her head to the side towards the two woman huddled in the corner of the low ceilinged room. 

“How do you know?” 

“My mother saw it. They were waving their flags on the street, shouting death threats at the King. It was a nightmare.”

Esperanza turned her head towards the two maids huddled in the corner. Their backs were facing her and they seemed to have forgotten that she was in the room.

“And what did the royal guard do?” the other girl whispered. 

“They dispersed the protest as passively as they could…so they say.”

“And the prisoners?” the girl whispered back, her eyes wide. “What of them?”

The other girl turned around and her eyes widened when she saw Esperanza.

Esperanza watched as her face turned red and she quickly shuffled away and out of the room, her friend following on her friends heels.

Esperanza had known the protests were happening more often, the fighting escalating to new heights. But she knew how the Lyons operated and they always managed to dissipate the tension in tactical ways.

They didn't like to use force -- they preferred to orchestrate plans with the purpose of manipulating their audience. She had listened to many speeches of Hartley over many years and she was aware of his ability to coerce a crowd into thinking one thing while in reality referring to something that was completely opposite. 

He took advantage of the equivocation and inconsistencies within the English language. He threw terms around such as _Multifaceted Theories of Social and Economic Stratification_ in full awareness that his audience lacked the knowledge to understand him. He toyed with them, and he did it with ease and grace everyday. 

She shifted in her chair and she felt a sharp object press uncomfortably against her torso. She felt in her pocket for the disturbance and her face paled when her fingers met smooth brass. She took the ornate object and held it close to her face. The writing was so small it would seem like a chip in the metal at a first glance but Esperanza knew. How the girl managed to get her hands on the little key baffled the old woman. She brushed her fingers over the initials.

 _I. L._

Esperanza pushed herself up from her chair and shuffled forwards to the exit. She’d have an early morning tomorrow and finish her chores well before noon. The sooner she completed them, the more time she could spend with Micah’s little pet. She had a lot to discuss with the girl…

***

“I never noticed those doors before.” 

Mollie stared in surprise as Micah drew the curtains that extended from the open balcony in his chambers to the opposite wall. He had a secretive smile on his face when Mollie admitted to this.

“That’s because you’re not as observant as you think you are Mollie.”

Mollie frowned.

She certainly begged to differ. She believed she had been a pretty good sleuth since she had been forced into the manor. 

It was dark outside and Mollie watched the rough ocean waters caress the rocky shore through the spacious balcony of Micah’s chambers. 

She had a week. 

A week before the supplies ship would reach the isolated Lyon manor and a week for her nightmare to be over. She could board the ship and be free from all of this…

Mollie shivered as cold fingers inched their way up her skinny arms towards her face. She hadn’t even heard him cross the room and make his way towards her. He had been hostile at first when she had approached him earlier that day. But he had become increasingly more pleasant in demeanour, his shoulders relaxed, his hair loose and tousled. 

Mollie preferred him in these moments. 

He had shown her that he did harbour a gentler side. 

Mollie found parallels between the prince and the ocean that surrounded them. He had the ability to be so desperately passionate, so serene, and so genteel like the sandy shores of a coarse white sand beach. 

Yet she had seen him at his most volatile, like the eye of a hurricane, he was equally as vicious, torrential and explosive. Mollie had remembered how he had put her pleasure before his that night at the cabin. But in her memory was also the time he had viciously taken her right in this very room as she screamed her apologies over and over. 

“Always so deep in thought Mollie Mae.” 

The dark haired prince had smoothed his cool fingers over her thin arms and she winced as he passed his fingers over a particularly sensitive area of her arm. 

“Still tender are we?” he murmured with a chuckle. “You’ll have to get used to monthly injections Mollie.” 

He had begun to inch his hands further down her body so his fingers stretched across her flat stomach.

“We wouldn’t want to be the creators of illegitimate children of the monarchy. There’s enough running around as there is.” 

Mollie perked up when she heard this. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

She had turned her head to the side so Micah’s bright green eyes burned into hers. 

He had a smirk on his face that made Mollie’s blood boil.

“They work hard to keep this monarchy robust. They make up most of the royal staff you know.” 

Mollie felt sick when she heard this. No wonder loyalty wasn’t something the Lyons were afraid of. They reared their own goddamn servants right on these grounds. 

“You seem proud of yourself,” she sniffed. “How many of them did _you_ father exactly?”

There was something in his eyes that hardened slightly but just as swiftly a smile broke across his face and he laughed. 

He was laughing in her face and Mollie resisted the urge to kick him where it hurt most. 

“Oh Mollie,” he said adoringly giving her a soft peck on the cheek from behind. “Wouldn’t _you_ like to know.”

She squirmed as he pressed himself against her from behind. 

“It has been done for centuries, don’t look so surprised.”

His blunt indifference frightened her and the more he told her, the more ill she felt. 

“My late uncle must have fathered hundreds before he passed. The boys join the navy, the women join the staff. They are neither corrupted or influenced by the public and they are given everything they desire. What more could they ask for?”

Logan Lyon seemed exactly the type to have indulged in unprotected sex with many women. Mollie always found it odd, despite his wealth, status, and handsome looks he could never keep a woman. Maybe it was simply that the women themselves couldn’t stand to keep _him_.

Micah’s hands had slid upwards towards Mollie’s chest and though she yearned to peel those long pale fingers away from her, she let him do as he pleased. He was opening up…finally… and Mollie had to play the game. This time she wouldn't fail. 

“So you grew up with a lot of half siblings I’m assuming?” Mollie asked breathily as the prince slid his fingers underneath her pretty silk dress. She was itching to keep him talking. She bit her lip hard as his fingers circled around her flat stomach, cool wintry skin caressing her blazing one. 

“Perhaps,” he murmured sending a trail of wet kisses down her neck. “There’s too many of them to truly differentiate between those who are blood-related and those who aren’t.”

“You never bothered to find out?” Mollie pressed as Micah fisted his fingers in her thick hair. Mollie could feel him smiling against her neck as his nose grazed her cheek. 

“No. I had plenty of other… more pressing matters to occupy my time with growing up.” 

His fingers felt soothing against her flat belly and although she was waiting for them to venture lower he kept things fairly chaste. Mollie was annoyed at the wall Micah kept putting up between them. Hadn’t he toyed with her long enough? Why did he still feel the need to remain so elusive with her?

“I wish you’d tell me more about yourself,” Mollie murmured as Micah pressed his lips to her bare shoulder. He paused after she said this and Mollie felt his breath halt against her shoulder. 

She tensed waiting for him to snap at her but he didn’t. Instead he turned her around to him slowly so that she was facing him. She had to tilt her head up slightly to look him in the eyes and she shivered at the blankness within them. 

Mollie didn’t like the frown that lined his features and her eyes nervously wandered as he stared her down. She couldn’t deduce what emotions were pulsing through him at that moment. For all she knew he could decide to remove the dagger from his belt pocket and slice a limb right then and there. 

“I don’t like visiting the past Mollie,” he said slowly taking a lock of her hair and twirling it between his long fingers. “It takes away from planning for the future-- from living in the present.” 

Mollie hesitated as he pulled her even closer to him. She could sense from his sombre demeanour that something in his past had weighed him down heavily. Whatever the prince had been through was something he struggled with. He dismissed it rather than addressed it and for once she saw someone else apart from that cold, austere prince she was accustomed to. She saw someone who carried with them a childhood of darkness, a man robbed of the simple things in life. Mollie knew how it felt to swallow painful memories. She knew how it felt to cling to the few moments of happiness one has experienced amongst a lifetime of sorrow. 

She was so close to him now that she could feel his cool breath against her parted lips. Instead of looking into his eyes and seeing a spiral haze of confusing foliage, she saw flashes of her home, her real home. The green forests of Riverton and the lush fields of wet healthy farmland. 

The prince lay a finger against her cheek, and against her better judgment the girl pushed herself up and pressed her lips against his. The motion took him by surprise and Mollie could feel his arms tighten around her as he deepened the kiss. The moonlight shone through the open balcony and the events of their somewhat peaceful evening pulsated through Mollie’s mind. Mollie had wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled free the silk ascot he had so skilfully tied around it. It reminded her of his father and she preferred him in his most simple attire. He lifted her up and immediately she wrapped her long legs around his defined hips. She moaned as he reached beneath her legs to pull her underwear free and toss it to the cold floor. 

“I missed you,” he purred against her ear as he trailed his tongue back towards her mouth. “Distance certainly makes the lust grow fonder.” 

Mollie gasped as he gently laid her on the bed and in one fluid motion ripped the silky dress she wore in half. The cold assaulted her blazing skin and she whimpered as Micah freed himself from his clothes and rested his cool naked body against her own. 

There was a certain part of her, way back in the deep recesses of Mollie’s mind that condemned her behaviour. She was no harlot, yet here she was…throwing herself at the prince -- _lusting_ over him because for the first time since her arrival at the manor, she realized Micah did have aspects to him that proved he was as human as her.

She hated herself for it.

She wanted to scream at the id in her conscience that succumbed to her own lust as Micah kissed his way towards the apex of her thighs. 

She hated how a small part of her enjoyed that he put her pleasure before his. 

She despised how her body moulded to his like a lock fitting a key. 

She was weak like her mother always told her she was. Her actions proved that.

The prince certainly had a way with his tongue and she groaned as he sucked, kissed and nipped at the most sensitive area of her body. He continued his tantalizing motions until she was a quivering mess on the thick duvet of his bed and the climax she felt sent her head pounding and her limbs flailing. 

“Ah Mollie,” he whispered as he kissed his way from her thighs to her throat. “Your body simply craves my touch...I can see it-- I can _feel_ it.” 

Mollie panted against his neck as his icy fingertips squeezed at her nipples and she brought her fingers against his cool pale back. In her climax filled haze she grazed her fingertips against his flesh and in her ear she heard a sharp gasp of pain. 

Mollie eyes flashed open and she recoiled against the headboard, her head hitting solid wood. She had felt it before she had seen it -- a deep crevice amongst what was supposed to be cool smooth flesh. She stared at him questioningly as he pushed himself up from the thick duvet.

“Your-Your back,” she whispered, shocked.

Mollie caught a glimpse of the ravaged flesh as he pushed himself upright obscuring her view. It looked worse than before.

“Don’t worry about it Mollie,” he said with a tone of irritation as he reached for her once again. 

“Don’t worry about it?” She repeated in awe as she pushed his hand away. “You’re bleeding!”

She saw the blood on her fingers and she hesitated as he frowned at her. 

“Who _did_ this to you?” she questioned. 

He didn’t answer at first and Mollie watched as he carefully brushed his tousled waves backwards.

“Micah?” she whispered leaning in closer. His eyes flashed to hers and for a moment Mollie felt a foreign and inexplicable compulsion towards him. She wasn’t sure what this feeling was? Concern? An evolutionary maternal instinct? Natural curiosity?

Micah reached for his white dress shirt that lay on the floor with the rest of their discarded clothes and carefully pushed his arms through the fabric. He regarded her coldly and she felt a creeping darkness settle over the room. 

Mollie only realized her mistake after she committed it and she bit her lip. She wasn’t supposed to refer to him by his name directly. She wondered if he was about to punish her for addressing him so brazenly without a title but he didn’t. Instead he leaned over her and grabbed her wrists firmly in his grasp. She protested immediately but quieted when he brought them towards the red, inflamed skin on his back. 

The fabric of his dress shirt concealed the bruises from her eyes but she could feel everything as she kneeled in front of the dark haired man on the bed. She sat frozen and trembling as he forced her fingertips to feel every scar, bruise, and laceration that lined his pale skin. Her fingers ghosted over scars that were permanently etched into his skin and others that felt sickeningly fresh. 

“Battle scars Mollie,” he whispered as he finally dropped her hands back in her lap. His lips were curled in a half smile but Mollie could tell he was doing what he did best: dismissing what Mollie was beginning to realize were the dark more sinister aspects to the cold and privileged prince of Questershire manor. 

Mollie swallowed uneasily. 

“Now I know why you’re always wearing a cloak,” she managed through dry lips. 

Micah had stood up from the bed and walked towards the window, his back to her. The cool breeze was refreshing in the heated room. 

Mollie could see the outline of his scars beneath the thin fabric and she trembled. What could possibly drive someone to mutilate someone in such a horrid way? She had no doubt his awful father had something to do with it and the hatred she had for the man intensified. 

Micah was quiet for some time and Mollie watched him from her position on the bed. She watched him as he turned his head slightly and listened as his husky voice permeated through the room. 

“If we truly have autonomy over our lives…how come we lack the ability to choose the families we are born into?”

Mollie was caught off guard by his question and she opened her mouth in surprise as he faced her, his green eyes glistening. 

He smiled after this and his gaze drifted back to the balcony. The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Some things are beyond our control I suppose,” Mollie said quietly shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “I used to ask myself the same question every day,” she murmured bringing the bedsheet across her naked chest. 

Micah laughed humourlessly at her response. “See there,” he said suddenly turning towards her. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

She watched as he approached her again, his weight on the bed pressed her forward and she fumbled in surprise as he reached for her chin.

“It’s not a matter of choice, it never was.” His voice wavered ever so slightly and Mollie could feel the emotion pulsating through him. It put her on edge.

It’s a matter of purpose,” he whispered. “We serve a purpose in the families we are born into, and that’s where our control manifests from. What we do with it…that’s in our hands.”

His words sounded recited and Mollie had sworn she’d heard something along those lines before. In fact, she was _positive _she’d heard it before.__

“Spoken just like your father,” she whispered back matching his intense gaze. 

Mollie watched the liquidity in his eyes freeze solid and she felt chills erupt down her spine as his frown slowly turned into a predatory knowing smile.

“Uncanny isn’t it?” he breathed, his breath fanning Mollie’s face. “How much you resemble those you despise.” 

Mollie could feel the strain in his voice and she pushed herself closer to him so that their noses touched. 

“He did this to you didn’t he,” she murmured her lips almost touching his. 

He brought his hand forward and clutched the sheet Mollie was holding tight against her chest and pulled it downwards so her breasts were bared to the slowly chilling room.

“You’re going to have to be more specific fawn,” he whispered. His fingers ghosted across her nipple and he squeezed the sensitive flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Mollie gasped at the sensation as her tender flesh turned red between the soft pads of his fingers. 

“Your father gave you those scars,” she breathed as his tongue swiped her chapped lips. 

She gasped in pain as he pulled hard on her swollen nub, the pain overtaking the pleasure for a brief moment. 

“For all intensive purposes, I refer to him as my father,” he murmured pressing his lips against hers briefly. “But in reality, he’s simply a man who aided in the process of giving me life.”

Mollie moaned as he rolled her stiff nub between his fingers and brought his nose between her small breasts.

She was struggling to keep the conversation going as Micah teased every nub and crevice of her body that his fingers could find. 

"What do you mean?" She gasped as he moved his hand to the other breast. He chuckled lowly at her question.

"Assisting in the sacred act of creating life doesn't make you a father Mollie. It just makes you a man. Fathers raise their children. Men procreate. There's a difference."

“I never met my father,” she managed between her breathy gasps. She was desperate to keep him talking but she could feel his arousal against her thigh…and she knew it was only a matter of time before he acted on these imminent urges. 

Mollie breathed deeply as he laid her down on the soft bed, his head pressed between her breasts as she tried to control her breathing. His thick hair tickled her chin. 

His voice was muffled from beneath her but she could hear him clear enough.

“I never met my mother,” he said tonelessly. He had teased her nipples to the point of numbness and she simply groaned as he shifted on her chest to make eye contact. “Maybe things would have been different if I had.” 

Mollie watched his movements as he brushed kisses against her belly and she felt her emotions surge inside of her. Gingerly she placed her hands on his chest and inched her way outwards to peel his shirt from his body. Mollie heard him groan as she spread her fingers against his back…

When Micah finally pushed his thick member through her slick walls, she didn’t feel the remnants of pain like she usually did. She felt a deep satisfaction. As if she had been starving for days and was now the guest of honour at a feast. 

His lovemaking was passionate yet gentle and Mollie felt every vein and muscle of his organ against her pulsating walls. Their time apart seemed to have affected the prince and he spent less time than usual on the foreplay, jumping straight into his eagerness for their intimate connection. 

Mollie felt him roll to her side after he emptied himself within her, his thick creamy load filling her to the brim. The mixture of their juices seeped down her thighs and she trembled as he inched his way toward her, his strong arms engulfing her from behind. 

It took some time before Mollie could catch her breath and ignore the uncomfortable feeling of cold semen dripping down her thighs. As she attempted to close her eyes she heard a soft whisper from behind her. 

Micah’s voice was low and husky as he pressed his lips to Mollie’s ear. Mollie wasn’t sure if he was aware that she was still awake but nevertheless he spoke. 

“This was never one of my desires Mollie,” his voice was so low and so quiet she had to halt her breathing to hear him over the sounds of the waves from outside. “I never wanted to lead this monarchy…this life. I never wanted…this….any of this.”

His voice was conflicted…scared…hesitant. Every quality the prince wasn’t. 

Mollie was paralyzed against him as she listened to his ragged breathing finally slow down into deep consecutive breaths.

Mollie’s eyes dropped to the floor and she stared at the glinting dagger in the moonlight that lay discarded with the rest of Micah’s clothes. She could so easily take her chances – grab the knife and stab the prince in the chest just as she imagined doing all those months ago when Micah held her captive in the underground lair of the manor. Maybe she would have done it had it been any other night but this night. 

Yet she remained in his grasp, his soft exhales against the back of her neck as he held her against him. Mollie lost track of how long she lay within the prince’s embrace, her eyes locked on the dagger in front of her as she grappled with her swirling emotions. 

The emotions that consumed her were frightening and Mollie knew she’d be full of regrets by the time the morning came around. She just hoped the clarity she so desperately craved would transpire by the time it finally arrived. 

***

Mollie awoke from her slumber the next morning feeling deliciously relaxed.

The tension that usually swamped her sore muscles was nowhere to be felt. The only part of her body that felt tender to the touch was the bare cleft between her legs. She pushed herself up from the bed when she remembered what had happened and dropped her head into her hands. 

“God _damn _it Mollie,” she cried out as she bunched her thick hair in her fists.__

She was supposed to tease him a little, extract information from him. But her poor lust-deprived self had selfishly taken pleasure from Micah’s advances. He was so different last night. So delicate...and broken at the same time. He had been so willing to engage her, so talented with his tongue --and his caresses against her body… 

She jumped when the door to the room opened.

Micah was dressed quite formally in a dark waistcoast and his favourite midnight blue cloak. It must have been close to 7 in the morning and already he had meetings to attend to. He shot Mollie a secretive smile as he closed the door behind him. He seemed a little _too _pleased with himself.__

____

____

“Good Morning _ma choupinette,” _he said airily removing the cloak that surrounded him.__

____

____

Mollie watched him silently as he walked across the room to hang his beloved cloak in his mahogany wardrobe and proceeded to pull a sharp object from his belt pocket. Mollie watched the silver pocketwatch he carried around with him bounce against his torso and she felt dread fill her stomach when she realized he had removed his dagger. Fresh blood stained the metal and she watched as he carefully placed it on his dresser. Mollie had an inkling the meeting did not go as pleasantly for others that were in attendance. She shivered just thinking of it.

She eyed the dagger he placed on the table and watched him make his way to the white washed en suite on the opposite end of the room.

“I’m in meetings all day today Mollie,” called out, his voice echoing off the tiled walls.

Mollie couldn’t see him from around the corner but she had no doubt he somehow had a way of watching her even from his position. The tap was running and she figured he was washing something…his hands maybe?

“I won’t be able to see you till much later tonight. Perhaps we can have a late dinner if you are up for it?”

Mollie swallowed uneasily from the large bed. She was watching the blood drip down the thin metal of the blade and accumulate on the marble tabletop.

He appeared suddenly at the entrance to the en suite. He leaned across the door frame and met her gaze as he slipped pale hands into his dark velvet lined gloves.

“Or maybe I’ll take you somewhere more remote. A break from these walls may be nice. I have to travel to town tomorrow anyways. Father is addressing the public, and he expects all of us to be present.”

Mollie nodded as he fixed his blank stare on her.

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

He smiled at her, his dimples deepening as he crossed the room in short strides and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Whatever Mollie likes, Mollie gets,” he whispered swiping a cold finger against her heated cheek.

She watched as he elegantly crossed the room and cleaned the blood from his dagger before returning it to its rightful position. With a quick wink in her direction he left the room, the door closing with a sharp snap. 

When his footsteps faded Mollie buried her face in the pillows and cried as shame, guilt, and disgust wrenched through her quivering body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize about the huge delay in updating. This whole pandemic has been hard for me to deal with especially with so much family scattered around the globe. I hope you're all hanging in there and thank you for understanding. Merci beaucoup xx


	23. Vanadium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot. Plot. And more plot this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The playlist is complete! There were so many suggestions..so many. I was so floored by the reception, you guys are unreal. I had so much fun listening to all of the submissions. So many of them made me cry and so many were SO accurate. Love you guys xx
> 
> https://zella-11.tumblr.com/post/615448691369721856/its-finally-out-thank-you-to-everyone-who-gave
> 
> ***
> 
> The Lyon Family Tree. Will come in handy dandy for this chapter and subsequent ones.
> 
> https://zella-11.tumblr.com/post/615448389331648512

The morning passed in a blur and afternoon seemed to set in only minutes after.

Mollie found herself in the parlour once again, sitting at a table by herself. Her reflection stared back at her through the immaculate glass windows of the parlour, the large windows making her feel more inferior than she already felt.

The tables were lined with lavish food and freshly baked goods Mollie could only dream of serving in her bakery. She missed the feeling of fresh dough between her soft knuckles, the feel of a smooth wooden rolling pin between her fingers.

She missed home.

She used to imagine when she was younger about buying one of the many cakes that lined the table in front of her. Just a small morsel. What it would feel like to taste something so expensive. Now that she had six in front of her, she couldn’t even bring herself to try one.

Instead she stared out the glass pane windows of the Questershire manor. There was an island in the distance, like a white speck amongst the dark blue sky with a single flashing light. She wondered what it was….

“Mollie?”

Mollie whipped her head around to the door when she heard that voice. Esperanza stood in front of her, her expression stern and her hands crossed. The woman rarely called her by her first name and it had taken the young girl by surprise.

“Esperanza,” she said quickly standing up. She hadn’t seen the old woman since yesterday and she felt guilty. That was the second time she had left the woman waiting for her, only for Mollie not to return.

Mollie watched her eyes scan Mollie’s empty plate and the plethora of food that lined the table.

“Have you eaten?” she asked eyeing the girls plate.

Mollie nodded. She hadn’t eaten much. Her stomach was too uneasy for her to truly indulge.

“Come with me.”

Mollie cringed at the womans tone and she quickly shuffled behind her. They had gotten off to a rocky start but Mollie had taken a liking to her. She respected her and Mollie was attracted to the genuine maternal nature of her.

The woman led Mollie down a flight of stairs she had never been down before. It wasn’t marble like the rest of the manor. It was dark and rickety and hidden behind bookcases at the entrance to the library.

_Concealed like most things in this place._

There was a man standing by the staircase and Mollie felt her hands sweat when she saw his expression. He was a tall, older man with grey tinged hair cropped short and large coal black eyes. He had a scar that ran from his forehead down his eye and across his cheek to finally connect with the edge of his pursed lips. His features alone were menacing and Mollie immediately felt on edge when she noticed him. His stature seemed familiar to Mollie and she swore she had seen him somewhere before. Perhaps at the white ball?

His expression was solemn as he stood against the wall in his royal uniform. When he locked eyes with Mollie, the look he gave her was one of such raw overt hatred Mollie recoiled in shock. She ran to keep up with the older woman and felt her heart surge to her throat.

No one had ever looked at her with such malice -- such contempt like that before. Ever.

Although she had quickly passed him on her way down she could still feel his menacing stare burning a hole through her back as she stumbled through the dark narrow hallway.

Mollie was on edge now as she glanced around her nervously. Servants in uniform stopped in their tracks to stare at her and many of them did little to hide their surprise. She must have been the talk of the underground as whispers surrounded her unabashedly. They were mostly females down here and the majority of them were rather short. Mollie towered over them as she stumbled beneath the low ceilinged servants quarters.

Esperanza led her to a small but comfy room with a plush velvet settee on either side of a simple wooden table. She closed the door tightly behind her and quickly shuffled forwards to close the blinds that looked out into the gardens of the manor.

Mollie had never seen the woman move that quickly and she noticed how tense Esperanza seemed. Mollie regarded her closely from her trembling hands, to her dusty shawl, to the loose strands framing her face.

“Are you alright Esperanza?” she asked nervously glancing around her. The closed blinds bathed the room in darkness and Mollie watched as the woman ushered her down and slid herself into the soft settee across from Mollie.

The woman stared at Mollie for quite some time, long enough for Mollie to blush and look away. She was a little tired of people looking at her like she was some sort of alien from another planet.

The woman leaned over suddenly and brought a small familiar object towards Mollie’s face.

“Where did you get this?”

Mollie felt her hands immediately begin to sweat as she stared at the small key in the old womans withered palm. She had let it drop into a small crevice on the stone balcony in Micah Lyon’s chamber. The woman must have found it while picking up Mollie’s clothes the morning after.

Mollie swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Don’t you dare lie to me child,” she said crisply, her voice giving the crackling fire a run for its money.

Mollie sighed. She was used to hostile confrontations. She could handle this.

“I found it,” she said slowly folding her hands on her lap.

Esperanza placed her fingers on her temples and rubbed slowly. It was the same thing her mother used to do after having one of her fits.

“Where did you find this Mollie?” she said quietly closing her dark eyes.

Mollie shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“What’s this even about Esperanza?” she said harshly. “It’s just a stupid key.”

In reality, Mollie’s heart was racing. Her honesty could be the demise of her at this moment in time.

“Do you know who this belongs to Mollie?”

Mollie shook her head in confusion. She feigned oblivion though she had a faint idea if its origins. She assumed it belonged to the woman in the portrait in Hartley’s chambers. The one with the dark blonde hair. Mollie suspected she was his mistress but she couldn’t be sure. There was something elegant and regal about the key, something too expensive and intimate to give to just anybody. However she couldn’t share her knowledge with the woman.

“This was the key to Izabel Lyon’s locket,” she said coldly narrowing her eyes at Mollie. Mollie looked up at her bewildered.

“How you came by it is irrelevant at this point,” the older woman said with a sigh. “But this has been missing for years. How it came to be in your possession is beyond me.”

“Hartley’s sisters locket?” Mollie questioned with a raised eyebrow. She was convinced the key belonged to a lover, not a family member.

Esperanza nodded.

“He had given it to her when she was a child. They were close. She was wearing it the day she passed…”

Esperanza stopped short when she said this and a long foreboding silence followed.

“I believed it to be buried with the body but I suppose this manor certainly has its fair share of secrets.”

Mollie watched the woman closely. Her skin seemed to have gone paler and Mollie noticed a thin line of perspiration lined her withered forehead. Something had jogged the womans memory and she seemed ill. It was way too cold down here to attribute her sweat to the heat of the fireplace.

“What really happened to her Esperanza?” Mollie asked leaning in closer to the woman. “Is she really dead?”

Esperanza narrowed her eyes at Mollie.

“Of course she’s dead,” she snapped. She had taken out her handkerchief to dab at the sweat around her forehead. “I saw the blood that lined the floors upstairs in that ballroom.”

Mollie bit her lip. There was still something the woman was not telling her.

“When did she die?” Mollie asked picking at a rip in the velvet fabric of the chair.

Mollie felt bad for taking advantage of the woman in her vulnerable situation. But her curiosity was too much to subdue. She was invested in the history and she wanted --needed to know more.

Esperanza was visibly shaking at this point as she hastily brushed her thin greying hair back away from her face.

“There was so much death that day,” she continued, her voice shaking. “The war had ended, Atem was sentenced, Hartley came to power, the youngest prince was born, Izabel passed….” She sniffled and dabbed the now soaked handkerchief at the corners of her eyes. Mollie waited patiently as the woman folded and refolded the fabric in her hands, her fingers shaking with unease. But Mollie was getting impatient and she resisted the primal urge to snatch that ragged handkerchief from her face.

“And then?” Mollie whispered leaning even closer.

“Well,” Esperanza started. “Porphyria died giving birth the same day too. It was quite shocking. There were so many bodies to bury, so many new successors into positions of power.”

“Wait,” Mollie interjected. “Porphyria died on the same day?”

Esperanza nodded casting her eyes downwards at the floor.

“Does that not strike you as odd?” Mollie continued, her mind racing. “Atem being imprisoned, Izabel dying, Porphyria dying, Hartley becoming the new leader…” Mollie didn’t mention that this was all conveniently before the new year began.

Esperanza stared at her silently.

“What happened to Atem’s wife?” Mollie asked biting her lip. “Did she mysteriously die too?”

“No of course not.” Esperanza sighed in exasperation. "Princess Isla lives in the West with their daughter. Please now child, don’t go digging into the secrets of this manor. You’ll only find yourself more riddled and confused.”

 _“It’s a little late for that,”_ Mollie thought bleakly as the old woman pushed herself to her feet.

She heard Esperanza sigh and grasp around for her master key. Mollie watched as the old woman stowed the ring of keys in her front pocket. There must have been at least thirty keys on that single ring and Mollie wondered what other secrets doors of the manor they would open.

“That day marked the end of one era and the beginning of another.”

Mollie snapped her focus back to Esperanza who had made her way to the little door in the heated room. “That was the end of our late queen,” the old woman murmured wiping the last remnant of tears from her dark eyes. “She was a strong woman and her contributions to this monarchy are unmatched to this day.”

“Was Porphyria’s marriage arranged?” Mollie asked quietly.

She couldn’t help but remember the condescending blonde she had met at the White ball that awful night. Mollie found it strange how the monarchy “arranged” marriages. If Micah ended up with that girl Mollie really didn’t know which person to feel more sorry for.

“Of course dear,” Esperanza muttered. “All marriages of the monarchy are. In fact, Porphyria was handpicked for Hartley to marry by his own grandfather,” she chuckled for a moment recalling a memory. “Even superseded Hartley’s fathers choice. That was no easy feat. King Malcolm had quite the temper.”

“And Hartley? What did he say?”

“Sir Hartley to you child,” she said sternly crossing her arms.

Mollie resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“He could say nothing I suppose. His grandfather was King and had the final say..." Esperanza paused for a brief moment, as if contemplating whether she wanted to share her thoughts. Mollie could see the hesitation on her face and she seized the opportunity

"And what of their relationship?" Mollie breathed, prompting the woman forward with her unwavering interest.

"Well..." Esperanza started, her face clearly conflicted. "I believe the relationship between Hartley and Porphyria was certainly more business related than anything…" she hesitated again after this but gradually found her composure. "But I suppose you culminate a certain layer of affection after a period of time together.”

Mollie had her doubts about that.

Affection and Hartley did not fit into the same sentence. In fact, she was convinced Hartley had been infatuated with another woman long before Porphyria even came into the picture. It was that beautiful dark blonde haired girl with the light eyes. The “mistress” as Mollie had opted to call her. Why else would he keep a portrait of her in his chambers and not of his late wife?

Mollie shifted uncomfortably. Dead people couldn’t tell their side of the story but she had a feeling the relationship between Hartley and Porphyria was not one culminated even the slightest bit by love or genuine affection.

Mollie had remembered what Micah had told her about his late mother. It hadn’t been much but he had said that she was not buried on these grounds.

“They never buried her here though,” Mollie murmured watching Esperanza attempt to make her self presentable once again.

“No,” the older woman sighed. “And what a shame that was too, she would have wanted to be buried next to her child.”

Esperanza stopped dead when she realized what she had said and Mollie froze when she heard this.

Mollie heard the woman’s breath stop short and Mollie swallowed the lump in her throat that had formed before she responded.

“There was another Lyon?” she murmured inching her fingers into the ripping fabric of the settee.

Esperanza was frozen solid, the look of surprise etched onto her withering features.

“But that’s impossible,” Mollie muttered standing up. “There was only ever Hartley’s three sons. That’s universal knowledge!”

“Hush Mollie,” Esperanza snapped. She looked around her rather alarmingly and quickly flitted across the room to douse the crackling fire.

“I’ve said too much. I’ve said too much.”

The woman was cursing herself as she flitted to and fro in the small cramped space.

Mollie was stunned. This must have been some grand coverup the monarchy orchestrated. Why they decided to hide this from the rest of the public was still a mystery to her.

“What happened to the child?” Mollie asked pushing herself up from the soft velvet of the chair.

“I should take you back to your quarters,” Esperanza murmured as if in a trance.

“Wait Esperanza,” Mollie called out as the woman held the door open for Mollie to exit. The woman was shuffling backwards and forwards, her face etched permanently in a look of terror as she looked wildly around her. Her paranoia was unnecessarily hyperbolic and Mollie had enough. Unbeknownst to the old woman, Mollie had grown up with a crazy woman her entire life and she was somewhat familiar with their break downs. She was unperturbed by Esperanza's act. It was simply a distraction, something to prevent Mollie from digging deeper into the root of a problem, or in this case a secret Esperanza had evidently been harbouring for years. The old woman was good, her theatrics on point, but her distraction wouldn't work on Mollie.

"Just _tell_ me!" she burst out, her voice echoing around the room. The woman went still and Mollie stared her down. "I have nothing to gain from telling anyone anything," she said sharply, struggling to lower her pitch. "I'm just as much a prisoner here as you are!" She sighed and collapsed back into the sinking seat across from Esperanza. "Can't you see that?"

For a long time, Mollie thought the woman would ignore her, drag her out...change the subject maybe. But Mollie knew what secrets did to people. Especially ones that you take the grave. They pick at you, like a parasite beneath the skin, inching closer and closer to the surface...till they eventually break the skin, and Esperanza had certainly broken hers.

"There...there were two Lyons born the night of December 31st," she said quietly. "A boy and a girl."

Mollie sat as still as possible as she soaked in every word coming from Esperanza's lips.

"Both infants...they had breathing problems," Esperanza paused for her moment, her gaze turned towards the windows near the ceiling where rock and foggy air clouded most of the view. "There was only one ventilator."

Mollie held her head in her hands when she heard this. Esperanza didn't have to say it. She already knew how this stuff worked. She was aware of society's warped mentality, the harsh prejudices that existed, the vast gender disparities that seemed most overt in lower class communities but was really more prevalent amongst the rich. It was of no great miracle that Micah was the one to receive the ventilator. After all, sons were the ones to carry the family name. Sons brought honour to the family. Sons ruled a kingdom. That's how it was. That's how it was supposed to be.

Mollie felt bitter. Her enmity for the Lyons had heightened but her tenderness for those they had killed certainly had too. She felt for the little girl. Mollie knew from the moment she was born, she had everything against her. Like most girls in this regime, this little girl wasn't given the same chance as her male counterpart for reasons that were simply beyond her control.

 _Control._ Something Micah had his own thoughts about.

_“We serve a purpose in the families we are born into, and that’s where our control manifests from. What we do with it…that’s in our hands.”_

Perhaps it was her purpose to die so early. Micah would certainly believe so.

The woman had opened up, finally. But Mollie was still curious. She wasn't yet satisfied.

"There's still one thing I don't understand," Mollie hesitated, watching the old woman's reaction closely. "How could there only be one ventilator? I mean surely -,"

“No more questions Mollie.”

The severity in her tone said it all and Mollie bit her lip and averted her gaze.

"I should return you to Master Lyon," Esperanza said quietly turning towards the door. The tone of finality ran through her voice and Mollie kept quiet.

Before she could exit Esperanza lay a calloused hand on her soft wrist.

“And for the love of god, keep your conversations of the monarchy to this room and this room only…for both our sakes.”

***

Mollie’s mind was buzzing as she waited for Micah to return. Esperanza had left her at the entrance to the gardens where she had requested to wait for the prince.

She hated being inside that dark empty mansion and she would take any opportunity necessary to be rid of it. She had six days. Six days until she’d be free. She’d see Phoebe again, her colleagues…her mother. Mollie shivered when she thought about it. That is if any of them were still alive.

Mollie’s laced boots crunched against the frosted grass as she walked past familiar marble statues. Something in her heart told her that her friend was okay. As long as she did all she could do here… they wouldn’t harm Phoebe….right? Mollie chewed on her lip as the thought about various scenarios in her mind.

She thought about the look that would be on Caleb’s face when she arrived back in Chartery. Another girl, another loss, another failed mission. He would be furious but Mollie could take that. At least she’d be far away from this dreadful place.

Winter was setting in and Mollie felt her heart constrict in fear.

She hated winter.

Even back home. She wouldn’t have the same luxuries of spending her time outdoors like she did now. She could see her breath form and fade in the chilly air as she walked slightly deeper into the dense vegetation around her.

Mollie was lost in a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions, her mind filled with the images of a green eyed infant. She thought about Izabel Lyon, her locket, the key. There was something about that locket. Something important enough for Hartley to keep for all these years and something that reduced the usually composed Esperanza into a trembling mess. Hartley was no sentimental person. He wouldn't keep the locket out of love, he was keeping it for a reason...a purpose.

Mollie felt her way around the shrubs and vines that surrounded her, her feet guiding her long before her mind could process where they were leading her.

As she turned the corner she came to a familiar sculpture, one isolated from the rest of the Elgin marbles that speckled the manor garden.

The fresh scent of peonies still saturated her senses despite the cold weather and Mollie inched forward till she was inches away from the beautiful creation.

“Could it be?” Mollie muttered as she pressed herself closer to the sculpture.

As carefully as she could manage, Mollie hoisted herself up onto the elevated platform so her eyes met the swan like neck of the marble encased sculpture. Izabel Lyon's statue stood tall and regal in the middle of the gardens, her presence still so apparent, years after her death. Mollie traced her features, the sharp jawline, the thick flowing locks designated by slabs and slabs of intricately carved marble. Mollie tried to picture her in colour. She wondered if she had those same dark eyes as Hartley, was she blonde? Brunette? Even in statue form her features were utterly sublime, from the full lips to the rounded cheeks and large innocent eyes. Mollie drew her eyes lower and she felt a tremor go down her spine. As predicted, she saw the faint outline of a delicate necklace against the throat of the statue. Mollie ghosted her fingers over it, feeling every outline and crevice of the cold stone. Mollie felt a sharp indent beneath the locket, a perfect place to insert something --something very much like a key.

There was a whisper to the wind, something swift and piercing that echoed through the air and Mollie felt her breath cut short as the sound began to intensify. Mollie froze as the whistling turned into panting and the panting turned into pounding. Something was lurking within the high walls of the seemingly serene gardens and Mollie felt her stomach drop when the leaves began to shake and the water in the fountain began to ripple.

Mollie turned herself around and huddled beneath the smiling form of the marble statue as the wind whistled past her hair and the thudding became the only thing in her auditory vicinity. As she closed her eyes and dropped her head into her knees something so big and so powerful pounded against her and Mollie found herself screaming as she tumbled to the ground.

To catch her fall she had thrown her hands out and immediately she felt something sharp and prickly pierce her skin. She had fallen into one of the many rose bushes lining the garden and her palms had pierced the stems of the blood red flowers.

She grunted as something heavy once again pushed her forward so her hands pressed deeper into the thick thorns of the bushes. The weight of what had made contact with her was double Mollie’s body weight and she struggled to bring herself to her knees.

Mollie gasped air into her lungs and turned herself around as quickly as possible. As she scrambled backwards, the largest most menacing animal she had ever seen snapped at her, its teeth bared and its yellow eyes glowing with ferocity.

Mollie couldn’t find her voice as she swung her wrist to the side to keep the animal from snapping at her exposed flesh.

The creature barked and snarled as she inched as far back as she dared, ignoring the blood dripping from her palms. The animal seemed distracted by the blood as it lifted its snout into the air and violently shook its thick dark brown fur so droplets of water sprayed Mollie. This was another one of the Lyon’s beasts… but this was not the same silvery one that belonged to Micah. This one was dark and fierce with a cunning glint in its eye.

_“Paris?”_

A voice called out in the distance. Mollie vaguely registered it but she was too distracted by the beast pacing in front of her.

_“Paris, viens ici maintenant, qu’avez vous trouvé?”_

The animal turned its head at the sound and that’s all the time Mollie needed.

She took off in the direction she came as she heard the creature snarl behind her. She didn’t look back. She didn’t dare to. She ran as fast as she could ignoring the burn in her throat and the pain in her legs. As she rounded the corner she hit something hard and solid and fell to the ground for the second time that day.

“Mollie?”

The voice was sharp and recognizable and Mollie scrambled up before strong pale hands helped her to her feet.

The sharp angled features of Rowan Lyon came into view alongside an equally tall gentleman. Mollie immediately recognized the man from his side profile. He had been at the Lyon dinner table. He had been arguing with Logan Lyon about something all those nights ago.

Mollie remembered the argument getting rather heated.

Before Mollie could respond, the beast that had been the height of her problems emerged from the gardens. Mollie watched it silently as it scampered past her without a second thought to lovingly brush against Rowan Lyon’s leg, calm and completely submissive.

Rowans lips were pursed in disapproval and Mollie matched the chilly stare coming from the man beside him.

“If you’ll excuse me Mr. Raiden, I have some other…rather abrupt matters to attend to.”

The man nodded once and regarded Mollie with an air of disgust before stiffly turning around and heading in the direction of the manor.

Rowan carefully smoothed his chocolate brown coat down before placing his gloved hands on Mollie’s shoulders.

“You’ve just interrupted a very important client of mine Miss Mayeson.”

Rowan’s dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly and Mollie clutched her cloak tighter around her body. She had torn the delicate fabric at the bottom of her dress when she had fallen and grass stains riddled the end of her cloak. She was an absolute mess.

She watched the animal pant happily beside its owner and Mollie felt heat flood her cheeks.

“Your dog tried to attack me,” she said from between clenched teeth as the animal regarded her lazily with large seemingly innocent yellow eyes.

Rowan stared coldly at her and took his time to look between his pet and Mollie. The wolf sat tall and elegant like its owner, any traces of ferocity eliminated from its features.

“On the contrary it’s a Wolamute Mollie. And Paris would never. His diet is more refined than that.”

Mollie didn’t like the secretive smile on his face when he said this as he carefully stroked the beasts head beside him. The animal purred in approval and Mollie glared.

“I know what that thing is,” she retorted tucking her wild hair behind her ears.

“You look awfully worse for wear,” he paused when he said this, his dark eyes scanning Mollie’s body closely. “But perhaps that’s in the nature of you countryfolk,”

Mollie stiffened.

“I never told you I was from the country,” she said hotly pushing his hand off of her shoulder.

Rowan chuckled lowly.

“You didn’t have to _ma chérie.”_

Mollie scowled as Rowan motioned with a pale finger for her to come closer.

“What were you doing in the gardens…by yourself?” he asked her.

Mollie didn’t like the curiosity that gleamed in his eyes. Her insides always seemed to twist in convoluted motions whenever she was in the presence of Rowan Lyon.

“Enjoying some fresh air,” she said rather bluntly averting her gaze.

Rowan simply smiled and stepped closer to her so his full towering frame dominated her lithe figure.

When he looked down at her the playful glint in his eye was replaced with something much more ominous.

“Don’t play games with me Mollie… I’m not Micah.”

The change in his demeanour was so sudden and chilling Mollie found herself cringing as she grasped her arms around her chest. The wind seemed even chillier in that moment, piercing her to the bone.

“I was…well…I,” she fumbled on her words as Rowan stared her down, his eyes blank.

Rowan suddenly clicked his tongue in disapproval as he took one of Mollie’s bleeding hands in his own.

“Looks painful,” he murmured.

Mollie winced as he brought his cool glove encased hands and held hers firmly in his grasp.

“The only thorns in our garden come from the rose bushes. The ones surrounding my late aunts sculpture.”

He was silent for a moment, his dark eyes glistening as they bore through Mollie’s.

“Her pretty face caught your eye didn’t it? She was like a sister to James and I you know. Only 6 years my senior.”

Mollie fell silent as he led her towards a beautiful vine covered white bench near the water fountain. The wolf padded behind its owner and curled up beside him on the ground. Its eyes never left Mollie.

Mollie met Rowans dark gaze and she watched as he picked out the thorns that had torn into her flesh. His expression shifted towards something unreadable and Mollie watched his steady motions closely. His movements were sure and firm -- surprisingly coordinated…as if he had spent a lifetime cleaning wounds.

“She was so beautiful you know. Like a ray of sunshine. My father absolutely adored her.”

Mollie was silent as Rowan continued to tend to her wounds.

“When she died a small part of my father died with her. He was never quite the same after that.”

Mollie watched as he removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket to wrap around Mollie’s palm.

“What happened to her?” Mollie asked as he wrapped the thin fabric up and over her hand.

“She was murdered…so they say.”

Rowan had a smirk on his face when he said this and she felt a tremor run through her spine.

“But who knows what really happened… except who was in that ballroom.”

Rowan’s dark musing voice took on a soft lilt which put Mollie even more on edge.

She cleared her throat quietly before she spoke again.

“I thought -- I heard it was an accident?” Mollie whispered as Rowan leaned in closer. His hands still clutched hers and she shook as his face loomed over her, his nose brushing hers. Their lips were inches apart.

“Then why was she all chopped up into tiny little pieces by the time the guards came around hmm?”

Mollie gasped in pain as Rowan squeezed her hands before placing them back on her lap.

“Didn’t hear that part of the story did you?”

He was so close his breath touched her lips and Mollie was frozen as his scent engulfed her.

“The blood soaked through every crevice, every crack in that ballroom. But ironically her face was intact.”

The wolf growled as Mollie jumped to her feet and she regarded Rowan coldly as he gracefully rose to his feet and tucked a dark stray curl behind his neatly gelled hair.

Rowan laughed at her reaction and she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I apologize Miss Mayeson, was the visual a little too gruesome for your pretty mind to comprehend?”

“Hardly,” she muttered brushing her thick dark hair away from her face. His condescending nature was something Mollie was getting used to. But it didn’t make her any more submissive.

“Because you know what I think Mollie,” he said reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve his glasses. “I think my dear aunt knew something. Something… someone didn’t want her to reveal.”

Mollie swallowed uneasily as Rowan placed his glasses lightly on his slender nose.

“Really?” Mollie questioned. “So you’re saying one of your own family members tried to kill her?”

Rowan smiled when she said this.

“Well, wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.”

Mollie watched as he glanced behind him at the serene view of the manor before switching his eyes back to her. She had a faint feeling Rowan was alluding to something.

Something that occurred in the past that was much closer in time than the death of Izabel Lyon.

“In my dear aunt’s case that person succeeded.”

Mollie narrowed her eyes at Rowan as he stroked the humungous head of his gigantic rabid dog. She didn’t like his tone and she didn’t trust him. The way his dark eyes flickered between her and the manor, the way his voice rose and fell in alternating peaks of multiple crescendos. As if he was trying to plant a seed in her mind.

"Izabel was a rather skilled woman. She was good with her hands. Bright too. She was a woman who traveled alongside her brothers during their expeditions overseas. She loved visiting new lands. Frowned upon...but Izabel got away with it."

He paused for a moment taking in Mollie's reaction. He was smiling to himself, a distant memory resurfacing in his mind.

"I suppose a pretty face gets you far enough," he winked at Mollie and she deftly looked away.

“You know who killed her?” Mollie asked before Rowan could turn around.

He had turned halfway at this point, his coat billowing in the breeze but Mollie saw him turn an ear toward her.

“Of course he knows. We all do.”

Mollie nearly jumped out of her skin as a low familiar voice drifted to her ears.

Micah Lyon was standing a good distance from Rowan and Mollie and she felt her face heat when she saw him. He looked good in that cloak. That midnight blue cloak decorated with silvery threads that seemed to radiate elegance and bring out the expensiveness of his attire.

He moved silently through the vine covered pathway and Mollie wondered how long he had been standing there for.

“And he paid for it with his life.”

His voice was as lifeless as his eyes. Cold and dead, like the surface of an icy pond.

“So they say,” Rowan repeated through pursed lips.

She assumed they were referring to their uncle…Atem Lyon, if she recalled correctly. Hartley Lyon’s eldest brother…the _“accident.”_

Mollie watched the tenseness radiating from both of them. She picked up on certain differences and congruencies between Rowan and Micah, how similar they were in their stances but how differently they conveyed their emotions.

Micah’s eyes flashed as he took in Mollie’s dishevelled appearance and quickly he turned his gaze back to his brother as if in question.

Rowan was smiling as the wolf beside him took off at a speed, its figure blurring in a streak of brown as it disappeared over the hills.

“I suppose playtime is over isn’t it Miss Mayeseon?” he said with a dark tone. “I do rather enjoy our little talks.” With a single tilt of his head, he sauntered off towards the manor his dark eyes glistening with satisfaction as he disappeared from view.

Micah was silent, his eyes trained on Mollie as his elder brother left them alone in the chilly gardens.

He seemed colder than he did this morning. Mollie was tempted to delve deeper into the Lyon history...Micah's history. She had learned a lot more from Esperanza than she ever expected, and to her surprise from Rowan as well. But something in the stiffness of Micah's stance made Mollie want to tread carefully. She was still reeling from his outburst only weeks ago. Mollie doubted she’d ever get over it. At this point in time Mollie had a feeling Micah wouldn't kill her...not intentionally of course. Had he wanted to, he'd have done it a long time ago...he had ample opportunities in the past to do so. But it didn't mean he wouldn't harm her and this she knew. Although the questions -- the _curiosity_ burned in her mind, she knew she had to choose her time wisely. Her safety was paramount at this point in time...especially with the promise of her freedom being so near.

The silence continued as Micah zeroed in on her with his eyes. She felt naked under his gaze, as if he was looking into her mind, tracing her recent actions -- her recent thoughts with those green orbs of his.

She felt obligated to break the silence, to keep her own anxiety at bay.

“I fell in the gardens,” she blurted tucking her hands beneath her yellow cloak. The bottom of it was washed with a light grass stain and she looked hopelessly at it.

The prince on the other hand did a million things in one day…and somehow he still looked as good as he did at the very start of his day.

“That was her cloak you know.” He ignored her last comment and swept his gaze over her clothing. “It matched her hair.”

Mollie felt her face flood with embarrassment as she fisted her hands in the beautiful cloak. Esperanza had found it for her in the dark depths of her room…wait.

Belle…Izabel. That was her. This was _her_ cloak. Mollie had been staying in _her_ room. She was Belle Lyon.” Mollie could kick herself for not figuring that out before.

“I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I…I didn’t know. Esperanza had--,”

Micah held up a hand to silence her and she quickly trailed off. He didn’t seem upset but Mollie was treading extremely carefully. He seemed off, not the pleasantly cordial person he had been this morning.

He shifted on his feet as his eyes flickered to the manor and back to her. “I have one more thing to finish before dinner. I wanted you to accompany me.”

Mollie was surprised at the offer, and even more at his formality. However she knew better than to think she had a choice in the matter.

“If… that’s what you want,” she managed squeezing her hands together beneath her cloak. She winced as the flexing of her palms saturated the handkerchief with fresh blood.

“It is what I want.”

His reply was strained and Mollie felt her stomach flop. Like he always did, he gently looped his arm through hers and guided her back to the manor. Mollie’s legs felt like jelly but she swallowed her fear and walked alongside the prince.

He never smiled. Not once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***  
> My idea for the prince...and quite honestly Mollie and Micah's rather tumultuous relationship really came into my mind after listening to Prince Arthur by Coeur de Pirate. It tells a beautiful, heartbreaking story.
> 
> Link: https://zella-11.tumblr.com/post/615491415443652608/can-you-provide-the-translation-for-prince-arthur


	24. Chrome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie sees some familiar faces. Micah draws some disturbing parallels to his family.

Mollie knew this place. She had been here before, with James.

The underground corridors beneath Questershire manor swept past Mollie, the cold unusually biting for this winter seeming summer's night. She was physically shaking as Micah tightly guided her through the underground maze, his fingers biting into her arm even through the thick layer of his gloves. There weren’t many people around and she could see her breath release in puffs of air as the coldness of being so far below ground sent goosebumps forming across her legs and arms. 

Eventually Micah stopped, releasing the firm grip on her arm and gestured for her to enter another more darker chamber. She looked at him with wide eyes but his face remained carefully stoic. He simply tilted his head for her to enter and she did so diligently, her legs shaking beneath her cloak.

The first thing she saw were chains. Metal chains that lined the floor and made the already cold room seem even more frigid. Micah walked past her airily as if he were simply taking a stroll through the gardens. Mollie followed the long line of chains from the entrance, across the large windowless room towards their origin. On the opposite end of the absolute monstrosity of a room were six people. Their arms and legs were chained to the wall and Mollie could see that five out of the six of them wore uniforms. Uniforms she had seen before many times. The one with the Lyon insignia on the chest. 

The one _she_ had been wearing when she first encountered the prince. 

Mollie was finding it difficult to breathe as her eyes slid past the six prisoners. The first one was a girl like Mollie, maybe a little younger. Mollie recognized the white dress on her thin body. She was a slave. The other five were men. Men she had never seen before. Her eyes scanned the room with her gaze landing on the one at the end, his arms shuffling as he tried to free himself from his chains, his sandy hair long and overgrown, falling into his eyes. 

Mollie felt her throat swell up when she saw him. They were all done for. He must know. Micah must know. If he didn’t know before then he certainly knew now. Mollie was a traitor, a member of the Insurgency and like the prisoners before her, her fate would be the same.

Micah had turned back around to watch her, evaluating her reaction. Mollie stood frozen, her eyes glazed and her legs refusing to move. She felt as if a pile of bricks had been set upon her lungs, preventing her diaphragm from rising and falling in regular rhythmic motions. Isaac had his head down at the end of the wall. His overgrown fringe preventing Mollie from looking into those warm eyes. 

“Come here Mollie.”

His voice echoed through the room and Mollie tried her best to grasp her bearings. She knew Micah. He wouldn’t kill her just like that. He’d make a spectacle out of it, draw it out until she was begging for mercy…begging for death. 

Stiffly she forced her legs to move, one in front of the other as each of her steps echoed throughout the room. She averted her gaze from the farthest prisoner as much as possible. She had no idea if Micah had tortured them already -- if he extracted all the information he needed out of them and had initiated plans for their execution. She wondered if Isaac had sold her out. There were too many unpleasant scenarios for Mollie to consider.

If there was anything Mollie had deduced about Micah so far, it was his ability to evaluate a room full of people. She had watched him over these couple of weeks, the way his eyes flickered between her and Esperanza at dinner, to the way he watched members of his cabinet exchange glances…write notes…drink wine. Mollie believed it to be an intimidation tactic at first, but the more she observed him the more she realized he was watching…analysing…calculating every movement of every individual around him. And he was _very_ good at it. 

More so than Mollie could ever be. 

As he had been watching her and the others around him, she too had been watching him. But his emotions were so well concealed…so ambiguous she couldn’t come to any definitive conclusions. The only thing she was able to find out about him was that he was left handed, like his father. She had suspected when she first tried to disarm him that day in the parlour. She had initially lunged right expecting him to keep his dagger in the right side of his belt pouch like most people did…and that had been her first mistake. He had also attacked with his left hand, his right one holding her down. But she had seen him sign papers from the little window in the parlour as he saw to his duties and she had confirmed her suspicions.

She knew already Micah hid his emotions well…when he was in control. But she had also seen him when that control was lost. And it was chaos. Madness. He became something else altogether. Something dangerous and capable of doing anything. He became unpredictable… and this frightened Mollie more than anything. 

By the time she made it across the cold frost bitten soiled floor of the room she was right beside Micah, his cologne wafting towards her and enveloping her in its sharp powerful musk.

Mollie shook in fear as Micah slid his arm through hers elegantly and walked her past each prisoner. None of them made eye contact with her as he strode past each one, painfully slow. Each bowed their head down in respect as Micah walked past them, his expression unreadable. Mollie felt her throat burn when they made their way to the last prisoner. Isaac’s head didn’t lift despite Micah’s presence before him and Mollie felt her stomach drop.

Micah paused as if in waiting and Mollie felt a horrible sinking presence in her chest. She dreaded what was to come.

“Still not cooperating are we?” Micah said pleasantly his grip on Mollie tightening. “It’s quite alright. I brought someone that might change your mind.”

Isaac’s head still didn’t lift as Micah pulled sharply on her arm making the girl stumble forward. 

“Mollie, this here is Isaac, a citizen turned traitor who is part of the Insurgency militant group.”

Mollie could see the way Isaac’s chest halted its regular motions when he heard Mollie’s name. She just prayed he didn’t do anything stupid. Anything to get them into even deeper of a sinkhole than they were already in.

Micah was introducing them as if they didn’t know each other but she could feel the iciness radiating from both his eyes and his posture. This was it. This was the start of the show.

Isaac’s head lifted and when those familiar blue eyes met hers, Mollie felt a surge of emotions flow through her. In fear of the unpredictable man beside her she kept her face blank.

“Mollie told me all about your little group,” Micah mused, a playful smirk on his pink lips. “She let me know all the ins and outs of your plan. She’s such a good little mouse,” he continued swiping a gloved hand against her wintry cheek. Mollie didn’t dare make eye contact with Isaac but she could feel his blue eyes burning into her face. 

“Please _ma chérie,_ reach into the pocket of this one here and retrieve an item for me. It’s rather small, well hidden….quite delicate…but I believe you know what I’m referring to.”

The soft husky lilt of his tone made Mollie’s legs turn to ice but she complied immediately. She knew _exactly_ what the prince requested of her, and quickly she bent down to Isaac’s level. His breath fanned her face and Mollie spread her fingers against his chest searching for the hidden compartment within the uniform. She knew it was somewhere here…in the chest area. She had worn this outfit before. Her fingers brushed against Isaac’s scalding hot chest until her fingers made contact with a little glass vial. She brushed her fingers tenderly across his bare chest before she carefully retrieved the vial and gingerly pressed it into Micah’s waiting glove encased palm in a single fleeting motion. 

Her eyes flashed to Isaac and she could see a hundred emotions pulsing through them. She saw relief…fear…anger…but she also saw scepticism and this frightened her. She had told him. She had made herself so clear to him that she was on his side that night in Hartley’s chambers. He couldn’t let Micah’s mind games break that. He had to believe the truth…

“ _Parfait,_ thank you Mollie.”

With exaggerated movements Micah shook the powdery substance in the vial and watched as it slid against the thin glass walls of its container and fell in small grains to the bottom of the vial. 

The smile that spread across Micah’s face was purely predatory in nature and Mollie watched as Micah’s cold eyes flickered between herself and Isaac. 

“Hmmmm.”

Mollie turned towards Isaac as Micah sauntered off to the side for a moment. 

When he returned he had a dark orange liquid in his glass and Mollie watched as he sipped his drink quietly, his pale eyes glistening. He still clutched the vial of anthrax in his hands and Mollie felt a prickly feeling shoot up her spine.

"Prufrock," he said quietly swirling the dark liquid in his glass, "please give these fine men and the young woman something to drink." 

Quickly, a broad burly guard swept past her, a large metal encased jug in his hand filled with a sloshing liquid. Mollie watched as he began to pour the water onto the prisoners faces. Mollie watched as the girl struggled to lick more water in her mouth, her cracked bleeding lips a testimony to her debilitating dehydration.The men seemed stiff, mistrustful. Isaac didn't even flinch. 

“Anthrax,” Micah mused weighing the vial in his hand. “Small yet so incredibly effective.”

Mollie could practically feel the ferocious heat radiating off of Isaac and she stole a glance in his direction. 

The look on his face was one of absolute lividity directed straight at the prince and she watched as Micah’s smile widened. This is what he wanted. He wanted a reaction... and Isaac was feeding right into it.

The other prisoners averted their eyes, preferring to keep their gaze locked on the floor. 

A cold glove covered hand caressed Mollie’s neck and she trembled as Micah closed her in from behind, their bodies only an arms length away from Isaac.

“They would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for you Mollie,” he murmured loud enough for the prisoners to hear.

_God No. No. He’s lying. Can’t you tell he’s lying??_

Mollie was shaking as Micah planted wet kisses against her neck from behind. The sharp scent of whiskey filled her senses and she tried to control her breathing as he bit into the tender flesh below her ear.

“Clever girl. Hiding the vial next to the kitchen quarters. Right at the heart of the manor,” he whispered into her ear, only for her to hear. He knew everything. God he knew the entire time. 

Mollie could feel Micah shift against her from behind as he reached into his cloak and from above, lowered something before her eyes. 

"Open it," he whispered into her ear. 

Mollie felt her blood run cold as she looked at a familiar piece of aged parchment paper in front of her eyes. She hesitated, her fingers shaking as Micah tightened his grip on her waist. With trembling hands she took the parchment from him and opened it, the crinkling of the material seeming much louder in the large echoing room. 

She could hear the smile in the prince's voice as he addressed his prisoners. 

"Well well well," he said with a chuckle from behind Mollie. "Looks like someone's been going through the family archives." 

He paused after this and Mollie felt her knees begin to shake. She had given that document to Isaac weeks ago. He should have been long gone at this point... somewhere on his way back to Caleb. It was the most incriminating piece of evidence against the Lyons and Mollie watched as the precious item escaped from her grip. Something happened...someone betrayed them. 

Isaac was looking between the two of them, a perfect poker face on his features. 

"Tell me," Micah started looking dramatically around the room. "To whom do I charge the crime of larceny?" 

The room was quiet. The prisoners keeping their heads down and their eyes trained on the muddy floor. Nobody moved a muscle, nobody flinched, hell nobody even seemed to breathe. 

The silence mused on and Mollie could practically feel the tension in the room increase. She felt faint. 

"I see," Micah said quietly, his voice losing all traces of humour. "I suppose I _could_ just... charge all of you with perjury." 

Mollie turned around to see Micah nod his head towards the guard standing by the prisoners. Mollie hadn't noticed before that the guard had something else in his hand besides the water jug, something that had missed her eye until now. 

It only took a second. Mollie didn't see it coming, she didn't even have a chance to scream. Out of the cover of a long thick object in the guards hand slid the largest blade Mollie had ever seen. In a flash of silver it hit the second prisoner precisely at the neck as Mollie recoiled in horror. 

The cut was clean and the head bounced off the wet spongy ground once before it rolled forward and stopped by her feet. Mollie was too frozen, too in shock to react but she heard the shrill scream from the girl in chains against the wall. The blood didn't spray out like she expected it too. Rather, it bubbled to the surface of the torn flesh, the veins and arteries rushing to pump blood towards the head that no longer existed. She clutched her chest as she watched the body crumple to the ground, the crimson liquid running down the wall into a glowing pond of red. 

The young female prisoner sobbed as she watched her fellow prisoner come to an untimely end at the hands of the cruel prince. Mollie could see the terror on the other prisoners faces. She had seen that look before, on many citizens before a public punishment. 

If it weren't for Micah's strong grip on her hips Mollie probably wouldn't have been able to keep her long legs from buckling beneath her. With unsettling precision she watched the guard flail his machete once before walking slowly towards the next prisoner, ignoring the sobbing slave for a moment. The young man began to twist and shout in his chains as he flailed his chained arms and looked desperately at the prince. 

"I didn't do this," he gasped, his throat scratchy and raw from over use. It sounded as if his vocal cords had been through a meat grinder the night before. "I swear your highness I had nothing to do with this. On my mother I swear!"

The guard was standing beside him, his blade ready for use, his eyes waiting for the approval of the prince. 

Mollie could feel Micah's breath against the back of her neck as he took another sip of his whiskey, his pale frigid eyes on the red faced prisoner. 

"Prove it," he said softly the one hand on Mollie's waist moving upwards towards her abdomen. 

The prisoner hesitated for a second, his eyes flickering towards the blood stained blade at his right ear. 

"I have other information," the prisoner gasped. "Information that will be especially pertinent to you winter prince." 

Winter prince?? That was a term Mollie hadn't heard before. However it seemed fitting...tastefully apt in her opinion. Yes, the prince was born during the winter months..but there was something more to that term. From the moment she had met him, the prince seemed to embody the cold itself, from his pale icy exterior to his abnormally cold skin. The thought alone made her tremble.

Mollie winced as Micah brushed his lips against her neck. He was giving off an air of distraction but Mollie could feel the tenseness of his breath against her shoulder. Micah remained unresponsive his lips against her throat as the prisoner looked around him wildly, waiting for a sign to proceed. 

"They have it," he gasped his chains rattling behind him. "The Insurgency acquired it. But-but rumour was that they-they had gotten it pure, but the Ophians...they...they fucked with us. Told us it could be synthesized on Southern land organically but...but that wasn't the case." 

Micah had stilled completely behind her and Mollie looked between them in fear. What was the prisoner referring to? 

"I saw it with my own eyes," the prisoner continued, eyes wide and his pupils frightfully dilated. 

"The Ophians you say," Micah murmured releasing his hold on Mollie. 

Mollie held her breath as she watched Micah release her and walk towards the prisoner. He was close enough to reach an arm out and touch him but far enough to keep a respectful distance. The other prisoners were panting hard and Mollie could see the stony expression on Isaac's face. Whatever the prisoner had brought up had washed a quiet foreboding hush on the entire room. The slave girl still whimpered in far corner, the left side of her pale leg dark with the blood of body that hung on the chains beside her. 

Micah stood still and tall, his rich cloak glinting in the darkness. He held his drink loosely in his right hand with the other hand resting somewhere beneath his thick cloak. "And where can it be synthesized?"

Mollie knew that tone. She felt her throat seize up on her. 

The man had tears that were accumulating at the edges of his eyes and she could see the defeat, the horrid feeling of unfaithfulness surge through him. He was betraying his people, in front of his people. There was no worse humiliation, no worse deed to commit. 

"Don't tell him." 

The raspy voice from the prisoner at the end of the wall snapped Mollie's attention and she felt her heart sink when she heard who it was coming from. 

Isaac was glaring at the prince, disgust on his features and as quickly and as swiftly as the death of the first prisoner, Isaac was hit hard in the side of the head with the blunt handle of the machete by the guard with the water jug. 

He grunted in pain as the force of the object brought him to his knees, his face contorted in pain. 

"Do not speak to the prince unless spoken to!" The guard barked kicking Isaac in the stomach with his heavy boot. 

Mollie could feel the gasps of air rush from her lips as she watched Isaac roll in pain against the wall, rivulets of blood running down the side of his forehead towards his neck. 

She turned her head towards Micah who remained in the same position as before. He hadn't even turned his head to acknowledge the prisoner at the end of the wall. He kept his blank stare on the second prisoner in front of him, his gloved fingers tapping against the glass in his hand. 

"Continue," Micah said briskly as if uninterrupted. 

The prisoner gulped, his face going paler. "It..It cannot be synthesized on these lands," he said bleakly. The sweat was running down his white forehead and Mollie could see the fear all over his face. "The...conditions here are far...far too tame for such a rare thing. It must be moulded on Ophian ground, exposed to the elements...all of them. You cannot trust the East. They...they are coming. And they are coming in fast. They'll kill us all. It is only a matter of t-time." 

Mollie watched the exchange from behind, her feet locked in place and her body shaking. 

"I swear, you highness...I _swear_ that is all I know. That is all I overheard." 

The man had dropped his head in defeat and began to pray. Mollie could see the heaving motions of his chest and the fleeting motion of his lips as he prepared for the worst. 

"I believe you," Micah said softly his voice barely audible as the man began to openly weep. 

Mollie waited tensely, waiting for some other horribly gruesome action to occur but the prince simply moved on. His next destination clear. 

Isaac had managed to force his head backwards as Micah looked at him from a distance, his expression rather indifferent. Mollie watched Isaac blink the blood out of his eyes and grit his teeth at the man standing above him. 

Mollie watched from behind as Micah casually tossed the parchment paper into the muddy blood soaked earth beneath their feet. It fell just out of reach of Isaac and she watched as the brown parchment soon withered in on itself as it soaked in the blood that had begun to spread down the length of the platform where the prisoners stood. 

"Better luck next time," the prince murmured with a soft smile. "I can't wait to see what your little rebel group comes up with next." 

Micah turned swiftly and flitted to Mollie's side a rather complacent look on his face. 

Mollie watched as Isaac spat a glob of blood onto the spongy ground in front of him and directed his look of loathing at the prince. 

"Who's to say we haven't already planned our next move prince? After all, _she_ was mine before she was yours." 

The stiffness from the figure beside her told Mollie everything she needed to know and she quivered as Micah stood unmoving beside her his expression blank, his features frozen in time. He remained like that for a couple seconds before his face melted back into something familiar. It was the same look he gave Mollie right before he dragged her across the floor of his mansion by the neck. He hadn't looked at her too much, hadn't addressed her really since she had entered the room. Now, Mollie felt as if a thousand eyes had turned on her as Micah looked at her from beneath his long dark lashes, his body still in the process of turning towards the exit.

Quite abruptly he turned back around to the prisoners, a half smile on his face directed at Isaac. 

"Is that so?" Micah's voice held a tone of amusement but beneath his layers of false joviality was something cold and biting. She could see the way his fingers pressed hard into the glass in his hand...the amber liquid inside quaking with each tremor.

Mollie felt hot and sticky despite the frigid temperature in the room and she couldn't look at the men in front of her. She remained silent, forcing her eyes on the floor, away from everyone who had turned to stare at her. 

She watched Micah slowly place his drink on the platform beside Isaac before making his way towards her. In seconds Micah was behind her, his chest heaving as his breath fanned the back of her neck. 

"You want to test that theory out?" he said calmly his arms encircling the hunched girl in front of him.

Mollie gasped as he untied her cloak from her shoulders and let the garment drop to the floor. 

“What-what are you doing?” she quaked as her voice whipped out in a terrifying whisper. 

When Mollie turned her gaze back to Isaac she soon realized the answer to her own question.

Isaac was trembling as he watched Micah hold Mollie against him. She could hear the chains rattle as his fingers flexed and his legs shook. His blue eyes were quivering and Mollie could see a glaze of emotion obscuring the clearness that was usually present. His anger was consuming him and it was clouding out everything else, including his common sense.

Micah’s grip on her body was as strong as iron and she protested as he fished his gloved fingers beneath her dress to cup her round breasts. 

She whimpered in pain as he pinched her nipple hard, a warning for her to acquiesce to him quietly. When she turned her head towards the prince, his eyes were fixed on Isaac, his lips set in a permanent smirk.

Mollie realized quickly that this wasn’t for his pleasure, nor was it for hers. Micah was flaunting his possession for the prisoners to see, dangling Mollie as bait in front of the most vulnerable one and watching him squirm under his relentless gaze.

Micah’s hands went lower, skimming her lower abdomen and she could feel the tears prick her eyes as his gloved fingers dipped lower to stretch her panties to the side. 

Her eyes darted to the other prisoners who had all turned to stare at Mollie. The humiliation was too much to bear and she let the tears fall freely as Micah inched two of his gloved fingers into her moist slit. 

“Still as wet as the first time Mollie Mae,” he said with an air of satisfaction. His comment tipped the edge of the seesaw and Mollie shut her eyes in fear as Isaac snarled and his body recoiled from the force of resisting his chains. 

“That's not what I meant you _sick_ fuck," he shouted, his chains rattling against the wall behind him.

Isaac’s voice trembled with poorly suppressed emotion and Mollie shook her head at him as the tears fell down her cheeks. Micah laughed against her throat as his fingers caressed her slit. 

Micah was enjoying this, completely unperturbed by Isaac’s derogatory language. “I'd say she belongs to me. You may have had her...but you certainly didn't _take_ her.”

Micah’s fingers dipped into her heated pussy and Mollie couldn’t help how violently her body reacted to his motions. She whimpered and trembled as he pumped his fingers in and out of her as Isaac thrashed and hurled obscenities at the prince. If anything, it seemed to spur Micah on even more.

"Do you like that Mollie Mae?" 

Mollie could feel her body betray her as her pussy clamped down around his fingers as he caressed and explored the wet crevices and grooves of her pulsating canal. Her eyes fluttered and her breathing came out in short spurted gasps as Micah released his fingers with a quick _shlick_ only to press them against her throbbing clit. 

“Stop—No—please.”

Micah silenced her with a sharp tug of her hair, turning her face towards him as he enveloped her mouth with his own. 

She groaned against his mouth as his fingers pressed her swollen nub and his tongue pushed its way through her lips. She could feel his other hand release her jaw and reach beneath her thin slip of a dress so he could squeeze and palm her small but full breast. It was an incredibly vulgar display of power and Mollie squeezed her eyes shut, her ears assaulted by the gasps escaping from her own lips in the otherwise deathly silent room. 

The sharp bitter taste of whiskey filled her mouth as Micah’s tongue twirled against her own. She could do little to resist him as the familiar sensation of heat began to flare up her core and rise threateningly towards her muscles and trembling waist. Mollie’s breathing was already shallow from her approaching climax and the lack of air from Micah’s mouth against hers was doing little to aid her aching lungs. With a precise pinch of his fingers against her sopping swollen button Mollie cried against his mouth as her orgasm flooded her. She shook and jerked from the overwhelmingly powerful vibrations racking her body and fell to her knees in a heap.

As she crumpled to the ground she felt Micah remove his fingers from her throbbing cunt and she watched in horror as he admired the juices that hung in strings along the leather fingers of his glove. 

Isaac had gone silent at this point and Mollie watched from the ground as he shot a loathing stare at the prince, his chest rising and falling and his eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

Mollie heard footsteps from behind her and she could barely hear the breath escape her lips as another burly guard filed into the room to join his partner near the prisoners.

“Proceed,” Micah’s husky voice brought her back to reality and Mollie screamed as the two of them began to slit the throat of the others prisoners that lined the wall. It happened so quickly – so suddenly Mollie didn’t ever hear the machete slip free from its casing. The blood splattered the earthy floor and Mollie could do nothing but cry and sob against the ground as Micah watched the show from behind her in silence. 

When the guards reached Isaac at the end of the wall Mollie could not stay silent any longer. 

"Stop! Please!,” she stumbled to her knees, her dress crinkled and creased as she turned towards the prince.

The guards continued to place Isaac against the wall and pull his head backward to expose his neck and grant them access to the heated pale skin.

“Micah! Micah don’t please,” she was sobbing and gasping as the tears fell down her cheeks and her screams came out in a strangled tortured cry. “Don’t kill him. Please Micah. _Please!”_

Mollie watched in pure horror as the guards brought the knife to Isaac’s neck and began to glide the blade against his neck. 

Mollie shut her eyes and covered her head in her hands as she sobbed violently into her hands, unable to watch the bloody spectacle in front of her. 

She trembled and sobbed, into the ground, her nose hitting wet earth as she stifled her cries into the soft ground. She waited for the soft spray of blood to hit her…but the only sound filling her ears was the sound of her own strangled whimpers. 

With a heaving chest she opened her eyes to see the guards had halted their movements. The blade was against Isaac’s throat but when Mollie turned to look at Micah she could see his hand was up, a gesture to halt their motions. The bodies of the other prisoners had accumulated a large pool of blood on the ground and against the wall that had begun to seep into the earthy ground and stain the soft spongy floor a horrible shade of crimson. 

Micah’s face was unreadable as his pale eyes bore into Mollie’s red tear-stained face. She was shaking, unable to halt her quivering muscles as flashes of blade against flesh pierced her mind. He turned his dead gaze towards Isaac and Mollie waited for the worst.

“Take him upstairs.”

Micah’s voice was low and quiet but loud enough for the guards to hear. Surprisingly efficient, the guards gagged and released Isaac from his chains and wrestled him to his knees before they dragged him out of the room and out of sight.

Mollie’s vision was blurring as she watched Micah approach her slowly. Her throat was filled with mucus and salty tears and she could feel her stray hairs sticking to her wet cheeks.

He reached for her and she recoiled, her hand flashing backwards to catch her fall only for her palms to sink into blood soaked soil.

The prince bent down towards her, elegantly, his leg bent down to meet the ground and the other elevated to keep him upright. His cloak rested lightly behind him and his tousled waves shimmered in the dark lighting. 

“You're trembling,” he whispered observing her body closely. 

"Don't," she managed her hands out in front of her to place distance between them. She heard Micah exhale sharply. 

Mollie had seen many things throughout her life. Things that would traumatize even the most mentally sound of people. But to witness, in such close proximity a person murdered in front of her...to feel the warmth of their blood on her naked skin...she couldn't dissipate the vivid images from her mind nor the odour or sensation of crimson staining her skin. 

Micah's husky voice in the silent room pulled her from the horrific images that ran through her mind and she snapped her head up. 

"The penalty for treason is death," he said coldly. "Don't look so surprised Mollie." 

She clenched her jaw as she regarded him, her fiery gaze directed at his glacial exterior. 

"I know the fucking rules," she responded shifting to her knees and feeling a sharp uncomfortable tingle in her nether regions. 

She could hear Micah's jaw lock immediately after she swore but he turned his gaze away for a moment. The irritation was evident in his features but he took a deep breath before he returned his gaze. 

He was maintaining control. 

"I don't...expect you to understand or agree with my decisions Mollie, but in spite of this...unfortunate situation I was incredibly altruistic." 

"You permitted the murder of five people," Mollie cried tears spurting from her eyes. "With a machete! How could you possibly -," 

"Five guilty people," he said sharply cutting her off with a menacing stare. 

"It doesn't matter!" Mollie cried wringing her hands. "That was completely barbaric." 

"You really think so?," Micah questioned his fingers inching towards Mollie's which were submerged tightly in the wet soil. "Would you prefer I keep them locked away underground till their bodies rot? Would you prefer I hang them by the flesh of their bones for the crows to feast on? Would you prefer I hand them over to James?" 

His last question hung in the air and Mollie fell silent. Mollie didn't want to see things from his perspective. The more she distanced herself mentally from the prince the easier it would be for her. 

"It doesn't matter," she whispered dropping her gaze towards the stiff collar beneath his dark waist coat. "You're still a Lyon. You're no different from the rest of them." 

Micah shrugged and looked at the bodies behind them, his expression rather disinterested. 

"There are worse things to be." 

They sat there in silence after that for a lengthy period of time. Mollie watched as Micah idly twirled the large silver ring on his finger his mind somewhere far away from here. 

“Why didn’t you kill me too?” she asked suddenly, her voice still garbled from her previous exertion. “I was with them. I snuck into this castle for the same reason as them.”

Micah simply stared at her his expression thoughtful but his eyes as impassive as they always were. 

“I know,” he said softly his green eyes liquifying as he took in her rebellious retaliation. “I had originally planned to.”

She stared at him hard, inflicting as much hatred into her expression as she could muster. 

“I wish you had. I wish you had killed me when you first found me. I wish I had reached for that anthrax the day I saw you in that parlour.”

Micah’s smile widened when she said this and Mollie felt her fists well up in anger. It was a sly smile.

A smile that screamed _“you could have tried.”_

“Oh Mollie,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. 

She stared at him in shock and confusion as he fisted his hand in her hair and brought her lips to his once again. 

As he sealed his lips on hers and kissed her deeply, she could feel his heart pounding against his chest as she placed her palms against him. She pushed with all her might but his strength was too much for her to overcome. His adrenaline was through the roof and Mollie could feel the heat emanating off his normally cool skin. He was getting a rush…a high off of this entire situation and Mollie felt sick to her stomach. 

“Yes my little fawn. That is exactly why I didn’t kill you. The look in your eyes, that hatred…that enmity. No one looks at someone like that and doesn’t plan to end their life.”

He hummed as he nuzzled his face under the curve of her neck his lips tracing the curves of her jaw. His tongue darted out to lick the salty trails of tears along her cheeks.

“Hate is the antithesis of love Mollie. To hate someone so much requires the same amount of passion…the same amount of vigour as it takes to love them.”

“What do you know of love?” she whipped out jerking her head away from him. “You’re so out of touch with the basic principles of human nature, love would be impossible for you to even _remotely_ understand.”

He tilted his head in thought as Mollie lashed out. Her voice was still quivering with poorly repressed emotion but she managed to keep her words clear enough. 

She was expecting him to taunt her, maybe even slap her but he just shook his head in annoyance and deftly pulled free the ascot around his throat. She watched him as he laid the material carefully on his lap and inched closer to her while pulling free his gloves.

Mollie attempted to unsuccessfully pull away as he brought the silk material towards her face. She watched him as he dried her tears, pulled free the wild strands of her dark hair that had plastered towards her cheeks, and mopped the smeared mud and blood that had accumulated on her hands when she had brushed her tears away. 

He hadn’t responded to her for some time and Mollie figured he had simply chosen to ignore her. She watched his irises contract and dilate in the poorly lit room as he zeroed in on her features, his light eyes a vibrant speck in the otherwise shadowy room. 

“I’m a prince Mollie,” he said softly as he cradled her cheek in his cool hand, skin touching skin. “my…position… tells me I will never truly understand love.” 

She watched his movements, so sure, so confident – so elegant – so programmed like his elder brother.

“And if you weren’t a prince? What then?” she said tersely, the wetness on her lashes a stark remembrance of her current situation. She tried her best to ignore the _drip drip_ of blood leaking from the walls into the accumulating pool of liquid beside them. She tried to forget the bodies of five people laying around herself and the only other living person in the room.

“Then it would be a contingency– an intense state of euphoria that I have yet to experience.” His tone was dismissive -- a silent conveyance of disinterest. 

“I don’t believe you.”

Mollie locked her jaw as she said this. Swiftly, Micah removed his palm from her cheek. He turned away from her rather quickly and slid his gloves back on, rising to his full towering height. 

“I have no reason to lie,” he said rather cattily, the hidden accusation in his voice impossible to miss.

Mollie scoffed and pushed herself shakily to her feet. It was moments like this, these hidden moments with her when the prince showed his true age of only twenty three years, the veil of his hidden interior, cracking in more places than one. He did it well. He hid it well. But he was only human. They all were.

Mollie jumped when he returned to her side lightly draping her cloak over her shoulders, substituting it for a shawl. 

“I’ll tell you this,” he said slowly looking down at her. “My mind tells me, that I should not love, but my heart…my heart tell me I’m not destined to. That I’m not meant to.”

Mollie went silent when he said this. She furrowed her brow as those glassy eyes stared back at her. She doubted Micah even had a heart to begin with. Something about him wasn't right. She felt it the first time she saw his face on that small television in her barely one room apartment. 

“I don’t understand,” she murmured feeling sick from the sharp metallic scent of blood and rust in the air. 

“I know,” he said faintly turning her away from the bodies that lay behind them.

Mollie jumped when she heard another gruffer voice from just beyond their position, towards the entrance. She hadn’t even registered that someone else had entered the room.

“Shall we dispose of the prisoners Master Lyon?” 

Mollie shivered when she saw the guard with the scar on his face ask the question. Mollie hadn’t forgotten him. She didn't think she ever would. That hostile stare was still fresh in her memory. She turned her head away fixing her gaze on the prince instead.

“No,” Micah said curtly stealing a glance behind them. “Leave it.”

The guards bowed their head in acknowledgment before disappearing back into the underground corridors beneath the manor. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured against her ear clutching her arm tightly in his. “We can’t have you in the dining hall looking like this. Father wouldn’t allow it.”

Mollie felt her heart sink even lower to the ground when she heard this. The last thing she wanted, was to be a guest at Hartley Lyon’s dinner table and see the despicable man face to face.

“Micah no, -- please.” He brought his finger to her lips and pressed hard enough for Mollie to fall silent quickly. 

“It’s not up for discussion,” he said coolly his voice strained. Mollie swallowed the lump in her throat and ignored the gnawing sensation of hunger in her belly. She had lost her appetite completely. He loosened when he saw her expression and Mollie saw his brows relax slightly. “You have nothing to fear Mollie. My father doesn’t look Primaries in the eyes.” 

Mollie just stared back at him, her lips turned in a sullen frown. She didn’t want to tell him that was the least of her fears but she dropped it. She knew how dinners went at the Lyons and it was one of the more unpleasant experiences she had witnessed in the manor. “It’s not for discussion for me either I’m afraid,” he added rather caustically.

Mollie understood his position but she found it hard to sympathise with him, especially after he just killed five people in less than a minute while pulsating his fingers through her tender vagina. 

Her pussy throbbed in pain just thinking of the memory and she shuddered. She wouldn’t – couldn’t forget the look on Isaac’s face as he watched the prince toy with Mollie in ways she wished weren’t so. The look on his face…it would haunt her forever.

“Where did you take him? The last prisoner?” she asked suddenly, her voice quiet but still trembling. 

Micah’s eyes dimmed ever so slightly and she could practically feel the fluctuation of emotions churning within him.

“Someplace where he can’t escape,” he said softly. 

Mollie bit her lip as Micah tugged her alongside him towards the arched entrance of the low-ceilinged dingy room. 

As they exited the now silent room into the dark narrow corridor of the underground layer of the manor Mollie spotted a flash in her peripheral vision.

She jerked as a familiar snow white tail brushed past her exposed legs. She stepped to the side quickly, the sensation startling her only to side step into the strong solid body beside her. 

“Theodora,” Micah called out softly as the wolf turned its ice blue eyes towards its master. He motioned towards the door they had just walked through with a swift tilt of his head.

Mollie walked forward, her arm locked in place with the dark haired man beside her as the sound of pounding paws and heavy panting filled her ears. She had an eerie premonition of why the animal was lurking about, its eyes wild and its pearly white canines wet as it salivated at the metallic scent of blood that saturated the air.

“Dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been a lot of plot lately, this chapter and even in the last one. I promise more character interaction is coming up guys! xx


	25. Manganèse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie learns about the importance of a certain element. Mollie is a guest at the Lyon dinner table. Will things go smoothly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a LONG chapter. Enjoy xx

He bathed her the minute they reached his chambers. She was unsurprised to see Esperanza absent from the ensuite. The woman was a complete wreck today. She probably needed time for herself -time away from Mollie.

Mollie stayed silent as Micah took his time caressing every bone, ridge, and muscle of her body. He liked doing it. Mollie had realized this. He spent extra time near her breasts spreading his pale fingers up and down her breastbone, tracing circles around the spongy skin of her areolas. His expression was rather solemn and Mollie watched him from within the porcelain tub. She watched his muscles flex beneath the rolled sleeves of his white shirt, she focused on his lips, the way they pursed when he was deep in concentration. 

Neither exchanged any sort of conversation following the events of earlier afternoon. Mollie was silly to think that she could reason with the youngest prince of the monarchy. He killed people everyday. Mollie’s reaction was unfamiliar to him. His justifications for his actions proved it.

Mollie squirmed when he skimmed near her lower abdomen, closing her legs on reflex. She looked down and noticed something shimmering in the water, something she hadn’t noticed before. It was faint but conspicuous enough to catch her eye.

Micah followed her gaze and slowly he brought his hand up, taking his time to skim his fingers along her wet torso. 

It was the ring. That large protruding ring he always wore on his finger. 

He had noticed her staring and deftly he caught her gaze with his own. 

“Family heirloom,” he murmured. She could see his initials glinting off the pristine metal. “My father gave one to each of us.”

His tone was rather languid and Mollie watched as he brought his fingers to her neck, laying the metal against her heated skin. 

The metal was cold, so so cold despite being submerged in the warm water surrounding her for so long. Mollie shivered as she felt the coolness of the metal begin to dissipate slowly towards her blazing skin. The small patch of skin where it lay began to cool and Mollie gasped as the sensation sent her nerves spasming. 

Micah quickly removed his fingers and leaned over to drain the tub. 

“Iridium,” he said quietly lifting Mollie from the deep tub. “The most precious metal on the planet.” 

Mollie looked up in surprise as Micah wrapped her in a towel and guided her towards a large wardrobe in another adjoining room.

She shuffled behind him, her hair plastered to her back and the towel pulled tight around her skinny frame. 

“Iridium?” she repeated her eyebrows furrowed. “That’s just a myth.” Or so, that was what Mollie had been taught to believe. 

Micah ignored her, his silence speaking volumes. 

Mollie drew her gaze back to his fingers where the thick metal danced in the candlelit filled room of the prince’s chambers. 

“Small aliquots of iridium glow blue in salt water.”

He continued as if uninterrupted, fluidly removing a flowing pale pink garment from the wardrobe in front of him. “It reacts with trace metals in the liquid emitting blue light.” 

Mollie lowered herself into the chaise by the bed as Micah gestured for her to stand, a gown on his arm. 

“But pure iridium…” Micah murmured. 

Mollie stiffly stepped into the gown as Micah expertly set the expensive silk on her thin frame. 

“Pure iridium glows red. But only in distilled water.” 

Mollie sighed as he turned her this way and that, admiring the way the gown looked on her body. She heard him hum quietly to himself as he observed her closely. 

“So your ring would glow red in DI water,” she clarified as Micah turned towards another grander wardrobe that was trimmed in gold. 

Micah chuckled at her question as he pressed his ring into a small incision near the handles. Mollie watched the wardrobe open to reveal a wide array of expensive clothing from silks and bowties, and vests to cloaks, and coats, and cuffs. 

“No Mollie,” he said with a smile reaching for something at the back of his wardrobe. “This ring is not pure iridium. It’s an alloy, so its mixed with other metals. Pure iridium cannot be found in these lands.”

He closed the wardrobe and Mollie heard the lock click into place. 

“Where is it found?” she prodded watching him sift through the meticulously organized files atop his desk. 

“In a place far away from here called _Devonis,”_ he explained loosely, his attention somewhat divided. 

_Devonis?_ That place sounded vaguely familiar to her.

“What’s so special about iridium?” she asked folding her hands in her lap. 

Micah paused what he was doing and turned to look at her. 

“The question Mollie Mae…is what makes someone special when in _possession_ of iridium.” Mollie watched as he placed a heavy box on the table in front of him, his dark tousled curls falling over his brow as he fiddled with the object in his hand. “Iridium by itself isn’t special, it’s what we do with it…how we _wield_ it that makes it special.”

Mollie furrowed her brow. 

“I don’t understand,” she whispered watching him run his hand through his thick hair. 

Micah smiled. 

“Perhaps I can explain,” he said softly. He opened his palm towards her and Mollie watched his pale skin glisten in the candlelight. “This ring by itself is harmless,” he mused brushing his fingers against Mollie’s exposed arm. “But if I were to soak this ring in arsenic, throw it into the fire maybe, submerge it in snake venom…it absorbs that element. It harbours it… _sequesters_ it.” 

Mollie was staring hard at his hands as he slowly moved his fingers down her wrist to interlace his fingers with hers. An involuntary shudder went down her spine as she started accusingly at the metal band that lay on his pinky finger. 

“How do you know all this?” she whispered lifting her eyes to his.

“The power of iridium is no secret Mollie,” he said with a sigh. “It’s been studied for years.”

“So that’s what Rowan does all day?” she pressed prying her fingers from his. 

He chuckled darkly when Mollie said this and she watched as he promptly turned around towards the doors to his chamber.

“Oh Rowan is simply one of many who study the wonders of iridium. And he certainly won’t be the last.”

Mollie frowned when she heard this. Things were beginning to piece together for her. She had remembered what that prisoner had said before Micah killed him. Something about the Insurgency knowing…but not being able to obtain it? Mollie was convinced they were referring to iridium. But why? Why couldn’t they synthesise it on Southern land? Why hadn’t the Insurgency mentioned iridium when they had sent Mollie here? 

_But the Ophians…they fucked with us…told us it could be synthesised on Southern land organically…but that wasn’t the case._

Mollie knew of the Ophian Empire. They were a small subset of the Eastern population who lived on the westernmost point of the Eastern peninsula. They were a militant creed. A dying race but somehow in possession of iridium. Mollie could only _imagine_ what kind of politics must be occurring now that iridium was an element native to their land. No wonder the Lyons were always making trips to the East. They sought iridium. And it sounded like they weren’t the only ones after it. 

“What you said before…” Mollie murmured, “About altruism…what did you mean by that?” She was in the middle of bunching her thick hair up into a bun, and she watched as Micah paused for a moment and perched on the edge of his desk, his interest reignited. 

“Leave it down,” he said softly.  


Mollie stopped her movements and quickly lowered her arms, their gazes entwined as her hair fell thick and heavy down her shoulders. 

“A quick death is a luxury in these lands Mollie. No matter what kind of citizen you are.”

“But that one prisoner helped you,” she argued her fingers flexing. “And you still killed him – even after _everything_ he told-” 

“He was weak,” Micah said flatly. He had reached over and began to tie a silk blue ascot around his throat. “And there’s no place for the weak here.”

Mollie was at a loss for words as she stared fiercely at the prince doing little to hide her frustration. Micah continued his motions fluidly, taking his time to adjust his collar, straighten his cuffs and smooth his hair all while coolly ignoring her.

 _“It’s useless,”_ the voice in the back of her mind told her. _“It’s useless arguing with someone who refuses to see the wrong in his actions.”_

Micah gave her a rather sly look as she braced herself against the soft cushioned chair. 

“You’re simply delectable when you’re angry Mollie Mae” he said with a soft laugh. Mollie frowned as he walked swiftly to the door his sharp features on full display as he brushed his thick hair to the side. 

Micah rapped his knuckles sharply against the doors to his chamber which opened swiftly to reveal two young female servants. They each bowed deeply before bringing in several platters of stainless steel silverware and trays towards a large but fairly long table on the opposite end of Micah’s spacious quarters. He dismissed them with a wave as they scuttled out of his room as swiftly as they entered. The enticing scent of warm bread and roasted herbs filled Mollie’s senses and she felt her stomach growl. She still felt rather ill from what she had witnessed earlier in the day but Mollie needed to stay strong. And that meant taking any opportunity offered to her to maintain her health, even if she had to swallow it down with revulsion. 

Micah was quick as he set up a dish for her at the table and guided her towards a chair. Mollie had grown accustomed to the prince’s rather… unconventional meal schedule and she said nothing as he sat opposite her from the table, the only thing in front of him his black leather gloves. In spite of knowing some of his bizarre habits she still felt obligated to question him. It felt wrong not to.

“Are you not eating anything?” Mollie asked the prince as he seated himself opposite from her on the small table. 

“I’m fine,” he said dismissively turning his face away from the food. 

Mollie looked down at the plate in front of her. Her plate was filled as usual with more food than she could possibly finish. No matter how much she protested, Micah was hellbent on filling her up, always commenting on how frail and skinny she was. 

“Why don’t you eat in public?” she asked curiously twirling her fork in the pureed vegetables on her plate. “Do you have something to hide?”

Mollie saw his lips turn into a half smile as he regarded her across the table.

“Everyone has something to hide.”

Mollie bit her lip as she considered this. He was changing the subject, gradually but definitively. 

“Sure they do,” she said casually bring a forkful to her mouth and chewing slowly. She swallowed as Micah watched her, his eyes soft but calculated. “But you didn’t answer the question. In fact…you didn’t answer both questions I asked.”

Micah sighed when she said this and she watched as he reached forward for the two lone goblets in the middle of the table. 

“I have a very…particular way I like my meals prepared…”

Mollie watched him pour himself a glass of wine from the bottle that was placed at the centre of the table. The dark red liquid flowed into the ornate glass and Mollie watched his movements. Not a drop was spilled as he closed the bottle and reached for the second goblet. The colour of the wine reminded her of blood – deoxygenated blood, a few shades darker than its oxygen filled counterpart. She remembered the blood that had lined the walls of that horrible underground prison…the texture…the _smell._

Mollie’s eyes flashed to his and she was shaking her head as he reached for the second goblet. 

“None for me,” she mumbled, the wine reminding her of flowing blood. He had offered her red wine before and she disliked its bitterness.

Micah laughed when she said this and she watched as he opened a second bottle and poured another clear-ish liquid into the second goblet. 

“Red wine does not go well with fish Mollie,” he said as if her refusal of the drink was to be expected. “It is complimented well by white.”

She sat quietly as he lifted himself from his seat and brought the goblet towards her, placing it beside her plate. 

He had a knowing smile on his face. 

“You dislike red. I remember.” 

Mollie believed he was referring to their previous dinner in the parlour. 

Mollie turned her gaze back toward her food and watched him return to his seat. He had a smug look on his face.

“You were saying?” she said tersely suddenly emboldened by his calm demeanour.

His lips pursed but he remained jovial. 

“I have a preferential way of planning my meals…what I eat, when I eat. Differences in the way certain foods are conventionally made.”

Mollie found herself fighting a smile when she heard this in spite of herself.

“So you’re basically saying you’re a picky eater?”

Micah paused and she quickly gauged his reaction. His half smile had returned.

“I suppose you can say that.”

Mollie felt as if there was another layer beneath his statement but she let it go. She didn’t want to push it.

“You…owned a bakery if I remember correctly,” he said softly taking a sip from his goblet. “What were your specialties?”

Mollie had finished picking at her meal at this point and she carefully set her cutlery down. The bakery brought back a lot of memories for her. Memories she’d prefer not to re-visit… but she supposed it was a two-way street and no good deed went forgotten… especially with the prince. 

“Well-,” she started, her eyes glued to her plate. “Our specialty was macarons. People used to line up for hours outside. Oftentimes we just had to turn them away after we sold out.”

She trailed off and looked up at Micah. His brow was furrowed and he seemed interested. It was hard for Mollie to tell.

“What was your favourite thing to bake?”

Mollie laughed humourlessly at his question. “I’m surprised you care enough to ask,” she said airily tucking her curled hair behind her ear.

Micah didn’t seem perturbed and he responded back swiftly.

“I’m surprised you think I don’t. I thought you a better judge of character than that Mollie.”

She frowned at his response and fixed her eyes on his goblet instead. She shifted under his gaze, choosing to ignore the comment. 

“I liked the croissants,” she said eventually, opting to answer his question from before. “I liked making the sweet ones over the savoury,” she explained flexing her knuckles. “There’s so much more to explore with the sweet ones…whether you’ll ganache them, fill them…coat them.”

She bit her lip when looked across the table. He had the most intense stare, it made her feel bare and self conscious.

“What about you?” she asked quickly shifting in her seat. “What desserts do you like?” 

Mollie told herself she didn’t really care about the personal preferences of a spoiled prince, but she needed to shift the conversation away from herself. She worried when he put her on the spot like that. She tended to let her mouth run loose before her mind could process what she was saying. 

Micah tilted his head softly to the side when he considered the question. 

“I don’t care much for sweets,” he murmured tapping his fingers against the goblet in front of him. 

Mollie listened to him tap the glass for some time as she ate, the clinking echoing through the room as a soft breeze billowed in from the open doors of his balcony. When he spoke again, his voice had gone even softer.

“My father once told me my mother was rather fond of _croquembouche._ I suppose if I were to choose a sweet dish, that would be it.”

Mollie looked up at him with surprise. He never mentioned his mother. It was a topic that Mollie had quickly figured out was dangerous territory. Yet here he was, throwing his mother into such a casual conversation with Mollie. 

“Does your father talk about her much?” Mollie murmured her brown eyes locked on the pale knuckles surrounding the prince’s goblet. 

“No.” 

Mollie swallowed uneasily at the sharpness of his tone. 

“Shall we?” he said brusquely slipping on his gloves and adjusting the cloak around his neck. “You’re done eating.”

Mollie sighed and pushed herself to her feet, the silky pale pink gown sliding down her long legs. 

“Wait.” 

Mollie froze at his sharp tone as Micah approached her from behind. She could feel his cool breath on the back of her neck and she glanced in the round mirror beside the grand wardrobe as he brought his gloved hands to her bare shoulders and squeezed lightly.

“You’re almost ready,” he breathed against her neck.

Carefully, as if she were made of aged glass, he brought his arms above her and placed something thin and cold against her neck. Mollie looked down to see a beautiful silvery blue necklace against her bronzed skin. At the edge of her collarbone above the arch that lead to her breasts was a single letter.

_M._

Mollie stared at the jewellery in the mirror and she shivered at the coolness against her blazing skin. She didn’t want to think about how expensive this must be.

The prince turned her around and admired the necklace that glittered on her chest.

 _“Ça te va bien,”*_ he murmured giving Mollie’s shoulders another firm squeeze. “Now the world will know who you belong to.”

Mollie turned to look at him, her throat constricting. She touched her fingers to the _M_ and felt Micah’s gloved fingers mirror her actions, his gloved hand pressing down on her own against her chest. Mollie stared at his glazed green eyes in the mirror but what she saw filled her with a strong sense of anger...frustration. His eyes radiated possession, authority...dominion. She didn't...she _couldn't_ seem to find an ounce of tenderness within them. She swallowed thickly and felt heat course through her veins. He had branded her once already, with a scar etched into her neck that was there to stay…now he wanted her to wear his initial around her throat? This was too much.

“It belonged to my mother,” he said suddenly his green eyes glistening. “She had it made for me before I was born.”

Mollie felt her breath catch in her throat when he said this and all of the furious things she had planned to spew at him fell with it. Micah didn’t have to say how he felt about his mother, his voice and his body language told it all. 

Mollie felt a lot of emotions course through her. Her cheeks blazed and her stomach flopped in spite of the gesture. He had…caught her off guard. 

“Mic-,” she stopped herself as she started at the glimmering _M_ in the mirror. “Master Lyon…I can’t…I can’t wear this.”

He turned her around and Mollie felt her chest constrict at the expression on his face.

“Of course you can,” he murmured. “And you will.”

“Why?” she whispered.

_Why would he giver HER something this precious? Why didn’t he save it for his future wife? What did Mollie have that made him so enraptured with her? She was just a regular country girl after all._

“Because you’re mine,” he whispered. He placed a light lingering kiss at the corner of her mouth. “Wear it proud Mollie Mae, not everyone gets the privilege of wearing such precious heirlooms of the Lyon family…” Mollie shuddered at his soft musical tone and the longing hungry glint in his pale eyes. “But I’ll make an exception for you. Your beauty is unparalleled, and it shouldn’t be hidden, it should be put on display for all to see.”

His eyes met hers in the mirror across from them as Mollie’s breaths caused their hands to rise and fall with each motion of her chest.

“We’re a perfect match Mollie,” he breathed. “You…You make me feel…” he stopped and Mollie watched as he struggled to piece his thoughts again. His grip loosened ever so slightly and Mollie tensed beneath him. “You make me _feel_ again.”

The emotion in his voice stirred something deep within Mollie, something she didn’t want to acknowledge. He had turned his gaze away from her, his thick waves obscuring her view of his face. 

“For so long…I felt…empty…hollow. But you…there’s something about you Mollie…something that just..”

His breaths had picked up and Mollie could feel him tremble behind her. He was silent…silent for so long…breathing her scent in, alternating between squeezing and smoothing her bare shoulders. 

“Micah?” she asked tentatively, her voice breaking the silent aura that hung around the room.

“Hmm?” he responded swiftly his nose brushing her jaw. 

“Why were you upset that day…that day in your chambers when-?” Mollie trailed off as she struggled to complete her question.

_That day you almost threw me off your balcony and fucked me till I screamed. The day your back was covered in bloody scars._

Micah sighed. The memory must have been resurfacing in his mind as well and Mollie bit her lip as he took a step back from her. The necklace bumped lightly against her chest, the metal still cold. 

He walked slowly towards the centre of the room, his steps not making a sound in spite of the cool tiled floor. 

“My father returns tonight,” he murmured quietly. “And with his return comes my acquiescence.”

“Oh,” Mollie said quietly. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to him but the dull lifeless tone in his voice conveyed a lot more than his few words. Mollie suspected he was building up to something, still deciding whether he wanted to divulge that information to her. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. “He doesn’t let you make your own decisions?”

Micah let out a short humourless laugh. “That’s putting it lightly Mollie Mae,” he said with a slight shake of his head. 

Mollie pursed her lips for a second before she responded. She dreaded the dinner this evening and Micah had told her earlier that his father would be present.

“I guess it would be wishful thinking to hope he doesn’t make it back tonight,” she said dryly. 

He looked at her for a moment and she quickly gauged his reaction.

“If only,” he murmured moving away from her to perch on the edge of his wide desk that spanned the west side of his chambers. He faced her casually, his gloved hands lightly resting on the dark wood as his cloak fluttered behind him from the open windows of his balcony. The breeze played with his dark locks and Mollie noticed he was losing the light streaks that were there when she first saw him. His hair seemed darker now…creeping on the edges of chestnut like his brothers. 

Mollie didn’t want to admit it, but at that moment... she felt something towards Micah…something stronger than the primal urge to hate him. It was there and she could feel it no matter how hard she tried to deny it. There was something... _something_ deep inside her that wanted to protect him... and another part that wanted to pummel him to the ground and bury him six feet under. It was conflicting but Mollie knew what she had to do. 

She had to let go of him, and the emotions she harboured towards the prince, regardless of whether they _were_ good or bad. 

She would be gone in a matter of days and the sooner she left without any loose ends and feelings the easier it would be for her. Once she was beyond the borders of the Lyon regime she could finally live her life. 

The taste of freedom was so near.

Mollie _should_ keep quiet, let her last few days here be as painless and as insensitive as possible. Now, at a time when it was most prevalent for the prince to stay silent he was speaking. If she were smart and proactive she would keep her mouth shut…stay silent and obedient as Micah wanted her to be.

_Or did he?_

That silent voice in her mind kept creeping back and casting a shadow of doubt on her ability to make sound decisions. Mollie remembered how aroused Micah got when she challenged him, how he nipped at her breast when she got to “mouthy” with him. Perhaps there was some truth to those hidden feelings. 

She should stay silent and insensitive. Silent and obedient…she shouldn’t let her mind wander….she should _not_ ask any more questions -

“What will happen to you after all of this?” 

He blinked at her for a moment and his brow furrowed slightly.

“After all of what?” 

Mollie internally kicked herself. She had started digging the hole and now she had to finish it.

“I don’t know…” she hesitated. “For the future I guess. Would you ever get married? Move away from here?”

The question was forward and hung in the air for quite some time. Mollie had killed her persona of not caring…if it even ever existed at all.

“We all reach that point at some time in our lives don’t we?”

Mollie looked away and shifted on her feet, her heels digging uncomfortably into her ankles. She had never imagined that kind of life for herself. She persevered through the hardest parts of her life on her own and she would continue to do that on her own. She didn’t need anybody but herself to carry her through.

“You told me the other night...that you didn’t want this…any of this—that you didn’t want to lead this monarchy. Did you mean that?”

Mollie was getting more bold as the late afternoon lapsed into evening and she watched Micah’s eyes flit from hers towards the open sky.

“Did I?” he asked softly. He sounded distracted and Mollie figured this was his way of deviating from the subject. 

“You did,” she said flatly tucking her hair behind her ears. “I remember.”

He didn’t respond and Mollie watched as he played with the silver pocketwatch on his waistcoast.

She wondered why he always carried it around. She wondered what was inside of it. She had seen fancy pocketwatches in the windows of the wealthier parts of Chartery and many of them held photos or other gadgets when unclasped. She was sure Micah’s did the same.

“Why don’t you just leave?” she said with frustration slamming her hands forward on the small vanity table. The mirror rattled slightly at the force of her action and she saw Micah’s head turn towards her.

He was a prince. _A prince._

Mollie had no doubt there was some kind of leverage or power he could use to further his own needs and wants. There must be. Why he hadn’t acted on them yet baffled her...angered her. 

Micah was still and gracious as he watched her. Barely acknowledging her burst of anger. 

“You ask all the wrong questions you know that Mollie?”

She locked her jaw and crossed her arms when she heard this. His voice was so calm and lulling, like he was almost making fun of her. She narrowed her eyes at him.

He brushed his collar briefly and adjusted his cloak so it fell behind his shoulders lightly, resting just below his long leather boots. 

“Being born into the Lyon family means you are obligated to put certain monarchical duties before your own. We have our freedoms to a certain degree, but in some…rather seemingly conventional aspects-- we don’t.” 

He paused and Mollie regarded him warily. Her attitude was still sour after he lambasted her only moments before.

“I always wanted to live away from the spotlight, away from the heart of the city...in the country side maybe,” he looked at Mollie when he said this and swiftly away towards the setting sun. “Own a farm…harvest my own crops…live a simple life...enjoy the riches of what the natural elements of the earth have to offer.”

Mollie was silent as she listened to him muse. She felt her face grow all hot as she listened to him. Had she read him wrong from the beginning? She had to pinch herself to make sure she was hearing these same words from the same heartless prince she had grown accustomed to.

“Is-Is that why you didn’t want to be CEO?” she asked carefully. She was cognizant of his emotions as she asked her question, ensuring his features remained placid. 

“Yes,” he said warily running his gloved fingers through his hair. “Puts my own desires a little farther down the list,” he added rather tiredly. 

“But…maybe...maybe it _could_ still happen,” she said quietly refusing to make eye contact with him. “I mean if you somehow hand the position over to someone else.” Her eyes had fallen to the plush rug that lay in the middle of the frigid marble floored bedroom, the only sliver of warmth in the otherwise wintry room.

Micah smiled at this.

“To whom exactly?” he asked, the amusement apparent on his face.

“I don’t know,” Mollie hesitated. She was not familiar with the rules of the monarchy, particularly when it came to how power was distributed. “Your brother perhaps? He seemed like he wanted it anyway.”

Mollie was referring to James. She didn’t even like saying his name out loud, the feel of it like acid on her tongue. 

Micah cocked his head to one side when he heard this.

“What makes you think that?” 

His tone was curious, not conveying even the slightest morsel of animosity. 

“I saw him in the ballroom that day,” she explained, those dark menacing brown eyes flashing in her mind. She remembered the way his lips curled in disgust when Micah’s name was called out on that podium. “He looked like…like he wanted to… lunge for your throat.”

Mollie was surprised when Micah laughed out loud. He seemed to enjoy watching Mollie choose her words when it came to the topic of his family. 

“You have a gift for expression Mollie Mae, that’s for sure,” he added with another short laugh.

Mollie felt her cheeks blaze but she didn’t back down. She knew what she saw, no matter how much Micah downplayed it.

“I suppose I could always hand the position over to an heir,” his voice had softened when he said this and Mollie watched his eyes flicker back to her. The laughter had faded and something in his expression put her on edge. She felt uncomfortable and she looked away, her palms had begun to sweat.

“That night,” she said abruptly playing with a loose curl that had fallen over her shoulder. 

“Yes that night,” he said monotonously. “I had a disagreement with my father.”

He stopped there and Mollie could tell by the firm shape of his lips that he wasn’t going to expand on it.

Mollie could only _begin_ to imagine what elaborate punishment Hartley must come up with. After all, it was _his_ idea to deter bad behaviour in society with public punishments. Mollie also remembered the pride that shone in Hartley’s eyes when he spoke about his ancestors, particularly the ones that developed the _guillotine._ It made Mollie sick to her stomach.

“I’m assuming that doesn’t happen very often,” Mollie said softly, so softly she wasn’t even sure if he heard her. 

He straightened up rather quickly and looked outside briefly before walking towards the door of his chambers. 

“As you know Mollie Mae…you break the rules you get punished. Simple as that.”

His tone had turned hard and Mollie bit her lip when he said this and decided to leave it at that. She wondered why he always tried to justify such reprehensible actions. It was as if Micah Lyon teetered on the edge of ethics and wrongdoing with full knowledge of the repercussions of both avenues. Yet he continued to lean towards the side that hurt him the most.

She shook her head and filtered these thoughts out. It was not the time to decipher such matters. She had a Lyon dinner to get through and a prince breathing down her neck. She had to play it smart. She knew what to expect this time and with Hartley at the table she couldn’t mess up.  
The prince stood by the door, still, sublime, and as cold as the glacial winds that swept through the north. His arm was held out, an invitation for her to join him. Mollie took a deep breath and pushed herself forward.

“And I reckon by now you _know_ the rules Mollie.” 

Mollie sensed the hidden threat in his words and she looked down glumly at the floor and nodded. 

It was going to be a long night.

***

As usual Micah was one of the last to join the guests at the table and Mollie mirrored his every action as he slid into his regular spot at the end. Mollie was seated to his left and she was quick to glue her eyes to the dark wood and avoid making eye contact with those on the opposite end. At the edges of her vision she caught site of the full table and ignored the stares that followed her as she sunk into her seat. The murmurs stopped and began again once Micah had reached for his goblet.

_“Ma chérie.”_

Mollie knew that soft mocking lilt and her eyes met the deep dark gaze of Rowan Lyon.

“How’s the hand?” 

His tone was far from soft and concerning but Mollie still looked at Micah before responding. He was speaking quietly with someone to his right and Mollie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

“Fine,” she said caustically. She was obligated to respond to a royal if addressed directly and she figured meeting his gaze was acceptable. 

When she looked at him she stole a glance to his left and spotted an older greying man beside the prince and an empty seat to his right. She swallowed thickly at the empty gold goblet and vacant seat beside the middle Lyon. 

_James._

He wasn’t here yet but Mollie still found goosebumps erupting on her arms just contemplating seeing him again.

“Father is that way Mollie,” he said with a predatory smirk. He had changed clothes from when she had seen him earlier. He had an airy navy collared shirt on along with dark slacks. His gloves, although a shade darker than his shirt, complimented the coat that hung lightly from the back of his chair. He also had his hair tousled today, a change from the usually carefully gelled and styled hair he opted for.

She frowned at him as he winked at her and she dropped her gaze, trying instead to listen to the other conversations around the table. It was a mixture of French and English and Mollie was straining to listen. Maybe they’d say something about the prisoners? Something about Isaac? Something about the Insurgency? But if only she could filter out the unnecessary chatter and hone in on what she wanted to hear. 

If the Insurgency could see her now, she wondered what they’d think. She was at the heart of what they craved. Directly in the middle of conversations between the elite and the leaders of the regime, no doubt discussing plans that would be of utmost important to them. And yet here she was… alone, and unable to use any of her advantages to further theirs or her own pursuits.

“Don’t worry Mollie, a little glance won’t hurt. I’m sure Father won’t notice.”

Her head snapped up again at Rowan’s whisperings from across the table and she shrunk backwards in her chair. 

“Go on,” he whispered leaning in closer. The darkness in his eyes were pools of molten coal and the candlelit table did little to lessen the insidious ambiance. 

“Take a look.”

His whisper was harsh and Mollie flexed her fingers beneath the table. She had her wits together, she could handle him. 

She met his gaze as fiercely as she could and turned her eyes to the right towards the centre of attention in the room.

Hartley Lyon had an aura to him that exuded effortless sophistication. Even in the heart of the aged shadowed dining room did he seem to radiate light and garner attention. Mollie had only opted to steal a glance but she found herself staring as his full pink lips curved into a smile as he turned towards the person on his right. His thick dark hair was styled and combed into a neat side part atop his head and he wore a gold and maroon coloured waistcoat adorned with velvet lining, silk ties, and lace trim. The crimson coloured ascot around his throat reminded Mollie of blood and she felt her stomach clench in knots. His dark lifeless eyes were set on the man to his left and Mollie watched as he placed his hand atop a scribbled piece of parchment on the table, his long pale fingers tapping the document lightly making the many rings that adorned his fingers glimmer in the tinted room. In spite of herself Mollie found herself drawn to the person sitting beside Hartley, to his left. 

The first thing Mollie noticed was that she was a woman, the only other woman at the table apart from her and she perked up. The woman was beautiful with a large jet black afro that framed her sharp features and smooth rich skin the colour of deep mahogany. She was also dressed in gold, with a slinky gown that held her full breasts and displayed her prominent collarbone. The woman reminded Mollie of her mother in the most bizarre of circumstances and she felt tears prick her eyes. A sharp squeeze of a hand on her thigh startled her and she was quickly met with frigid pale green eyes. The anger was there but almost immediately, his brow furrowed and Mollie blinked the dampness away. The hand on her thigh loosened ever so lightly and Mollie felt a soft squeeze replace the hard knuckles that were digging into her flesh. It was hard to say whether this was an act of comfort by the youngest prince or whether he was simply adjusting himself as he turned his attention back to the guests seated at the table. Regardless, Mollie felt significantly calmer. 

The empty seat on the opposite side of the table seemed like an elephant in the room and Mollie didn’t miss how men kept turning their gaze towards it as if someone were sitting there. Mollie would never forget the blond hot-headed Logan Lyon. In spite of his death, his presence still felt stronger than ever.

The elegant lady at the head of the table was murmuring quietly to Hartley and Mollie wondered what they were discussing and what her business here was. She was not from these parts…but her dressing and her natural graciousness suggested she was rich…elite. 

_“Bof!_ There he is!”

Mollie felt her heart sink when her least favourite person entered the room. He nodded as several men stood up from their seats to acknowledge his presence. James was swift and composed when he entered and his all black attire gave him a threatening ambience. Micah didn’t even turn his head and Mollie watched from beneath her lashes as he took his seat beside Rowan and began to shake hands with the man to his left.

“No wine for me?” James asked jovially his dark eyes meeting another guest across from him as he gestured to the empty goblet in front of him.

 _“Ah! Je me charge de ça.”*_

Mollie followed his movements using her hair as a screen for her vision and watched as the man across from him filled his goblet with a liquid as dark as his suit. 

_“Quoi donc?”*_

“Malt,” said another raspy voice from an older white haired gentleman at the end of the table. 

_“Et là?”_

_“Eau de vie.”*_

There were so many people speaking at once with so many transitions in language and Mollie could feel her head swimming. James didn’t steal a glance at her in the slightest and it was as if she weren’t even a speck of dust on the table. Mollie preferred it this way and she stayed silent, feeling most out of place as these rich people bantered back and forth.

Mollie instead watched the youngest prince. He had settled on his usual drink of choice, the dark whiskey in his glass, but Mollie figured this was more for show than anything. He spoke when spoken to and remained silent much like her, his pale eyes following the men around the room. 

Mollie felt her breath catch when the man at the head of the table put his hand in the air, a gesture to halt all further conversations. 

_“Silence.”_

It was as if time stood still itself and Mollie held her breath as the eldest member of the Lyon monarchy addressed his guests.

“Now that we are all present there is quite a lot to discuss.”

His tone was crisp and sharp with any remnants of his accent disappearing at once. There was a soft murmur that resounded around the table and Mollie watched Rowan’s eyes flicker between James and his father.

“Why don’t you fill us in James?”

In spite of his cordial tone Mollie sensed a hint of coldness in Hartley’s voice and she quickly flitted her eyes to James, his smile going stale. 

“Of course. Gentleman, _Monsieur, Mademoiselle Rineau.”_

James’ tone was identical to his fathers with a hint of huskiness which Mollie attributed to his tardiness. He seemed frustrated... if not a little forced and Mollie watched as he tucked a loose dark curl behind his ear. 

“There has been little turmoil in the _Soireé Crest_ these days since I have taken over my late uncle’s duties. In spite of this transition, I still feel it necessary to limit access in and out of the West for at least another 6 months-“

He was cut off by another man across from him who Mollie realized quickly seemed to have quite the short fuse.

_“On ne peut pas attendre!”*_

Mollie realized the mans face had gone red and he looked as if he were ready to jump out of his seat. James’ mouth twitched slightly at being interrupted but he continued nonetheless. 

“We _must_ wait. Exports and imports can continue... but crossing the borders is strictly prohibited until _I_ deem it acceptable.”

The man slammed his glass on the table and faced James with a menacing stare. 

_“Ces tactiques indignes n'ont pas marché par le passé, pas plus qu'elles ne marcheront à l'avenir.”*_

James narrowed his eyes and Mollie could see him slowly losing his cool.

_“Permettez-moi de dire que je ne partage pas ces deux points de vue.”*_

James’s voice was icy and blunt and she watched the man across from him retreat slightly. His chair squeaked as he returned to his seat. 

_“En Anglais s’il vous plait.”*_

Hartley’s voice dominated over them all and she watched as he placed his non-gloved hand atop the table and rested his gloved hand delicately atop the woman beside him. The woman had a smug expression on her face and Mollie wondered what warranted such a reaction from her. She seemed completely at ease, as if she conversed with testosterone fuelled men on a daily basis and was confident in her ability to win them all over.

“Your border issues do little to placate me James. My interest is in the shipment.”

Mollie’s ears perked up when she heard this and she saw Hartley’s eyes turn to his middle son.

On cue, Rowan turned towards his father, his voice clear and confident. 

“Shipment is much harder from _Devonis_ to the South. It makes sense to keep the material as close to its origins as possible.” 

The rest of the guests had gone silent and Rowan’s eyes flickered to Micah’s for a split second before resting on his fathers.

“It would be more practical…more _prudent_ to send it North.”

James fist slammed down onto the table and Mollie jumped at the sudden noise.

“No.”

He did nothing less than snarl at his brother but Rowan kept his cool demeanour. He looked rather shrewdly around the table before resting his brown eyes on his youngest brother. 

_“T’en penses quoi, Micah?”*_

Mollie could feel the eyes of every person at the table turn towards the youngest prince and she felt her throat constrict.

Micah turned to his father and Mollie could see the coolness radiating off Hartley’s impassive face. He was staring deadpan at his youngest son, his rings glinting in the candlelight. He had one similar to Micah’s on his forefinger but with a large ruby in the centre, the colour of fresh blood. 

“I think we should negotiate with them directly,” Micah explained smoothly, his eyes meeting those around him. “Touch down on the shores of the Obsidian Desert and pick up our shipments directly. It’s about time the Ophians stop calling the shots.”

James laughed bitterly before Micah could even finish his sentence. 

“What a brilliant idea dear brother,” James said mockingly his lips curling into a sneer. “The minute our ships come in close proximity to those barbarians they’ll obliterate us, just as they did to our ancestors.” 

There was a quiet murmur of agreement from the crowd as James shot his brother a withering look.

“That was a long time ago James,” Rowan mused quietly taking a sip of his wine.

“Some things don’t change. You should know that better than anyone Rowan.”

The chiding remark came sharply and Mollie watched the icy exchange between Rowan and James. The tension in the room was unmistakeable.

“I can negotiate a deal with them,” Micah said swiftly his eyes on his father.

“Forgive me young prince,” another quiet voice added from the table. “But this has been attempted before and we reached no agreement. In fact, we ended up on worse terms with the Ophians than before....”

 _“Oui,”_ said another man with a heavy accent. “They are not interested in negotiation. _Seulement le pouvoir.”*_

The conversations around the table began to increase once again as disagreements erupted from several guests.  


"We go with _my_ idea," said another man more forcefully. "My army is quick, they'll pick up the shipment in no time."

_"Non. Il n’y a aucune garantie là dedans!"*_

_“Donc, mon roi, que proposez-vous?”*_

The conversations died down as the guests turned to look at Hartley. 

He smiled secretively to himself, his dimples deep and pronounced on his cheeks. Mollie suddenly knew where Micah got those traits from.

“That’s a question you’ll have to ask the man in charge of trade.”

Mollie could practically hear the doubtfulness hanging in the air as many turned towards Micah. Some of them had poker faces but many looked sceptical. 

_“Verdict?”_

“We make the trip to Obsidian Desert, ourselves, and pick up the shipment from their land,” Micah said crisply.

“And what if they mobilize before then?” said another voice from beside the prince.

Micah smiled at this and Mollie saw a glimpse of his father within his sharp features.

“Have you ever been to the Obsidian Lands _Grigoire?”_

The man looked quickly at Micah and his colleagues before he responded. 

_“Bien sûr!_ Many times my prince. Treacherous journey there and back. Damn near lost my life. Those wretched volcanoes and that dry cracked land is no place for the living.”

Micah paused as many men agreed with _Grigoire’s_ statements. 

_“Bien._ Then you’ll know the volcanoes border the perimeter of the land yes?”

 _“Oui,”_ said the man with a nod. “I suppose you can say that.”

Micah turned his attention to the others at the table who slowly inched their heads forward to hear what he had to say. 

“Instead of previous attempts that involved docking on Ophian territory prior to negotiation, I propose our men anchor their ships close enough to their land so that they can see the border, but are far enough away from the land that they are adequately concealed by the volcanoes that border the perimeter.”

James scoffed when he heard this and Mollie watched as Micah turned his head to his brother, his eyes as deadpan as his fathers. 

“And if they decide to initiate? Then what?”

“Surely you know that they have the high ground James,” Micah said smoothly. “They’ll wait for _us_ to initiate.” 

“But someone must still go and negotiate.” _Grigoire_ argued. “If our fine men are on these ships-- far enough away from the dock…then they will not be able to make it in time to rescue those who decide to dock first…and if things go sour that’s a death sentence. The Ophians don’t take prisoners…those fucking barbarians.”

He slammed his fist on the table and muttered in a foreign language. His face was contorted in frustration and Mollie watched the silent apprehensive faces of the others around him. 

Mollie was pretty sure the Lyons didn’t take prisoners either but she sat still and quiet as she listened to these men formulate a plan.

“So who will go first and negotiate?” asked another dark haired man at the table.

“I will.” 

There was a collective gasp around the table as Micah spoke. “I, along with two other guards will dock first and negotiate with the Ophians. That way they will feel less threatened, perhaps be willing to sit down and strike a deal with us. It is much more beneficial to make them allies than it is to have them be our enemies as it has been for decades.”

“Allies? They obliterated our men...and we theirs. What could possibly prompt them to ally with us?” asked another. 

“My prince this is madness,” said _Grigoire_ with a shake of his head. “It is folly. You cannot dock with a mere two guards for protection. You won't make it to see another day my prince.” 

“No...” Rowan said slowly reaching for his glasses. “It is not implausible.” He paused as he stared at his younger brother the gears in his mind working. “Micah is now CEO of trade, that constitutes him as a political leader. Killing him would be a direct initiation of war and the Ophians are a constitutional monarchy not an absolute one.”

James was staring hard at his father as Hartley listened in silence, his eye movements the only sign that he was not just a statue at the table. 

“They couldn’t initiate a war even if things _did_ go sour…not immediately anyway. It would have to go through several layers of red tape before that happened -- and that would take hours at least, days on average, a week at most. It would give us time to close in on them if things did go south.”

There was a hush around the table as people considered this. 

It was a good plan in Mollie’s opinion and she listened intently to these men as they weighed these options against their own. 

“We’ve tried negotiations in the past,” James said slowly bringing his gloved hand to his brows in frustration as he rubbed his temples. “It didn’t _work._ ”

“Of course it didn’t,” Micah said sharply addressing his brother. “You were the one negotiating after all.”

James stood up and leaned over the table in a single fluid motion thrusting his dagger deep into the table with a sharp crack and shattering the goblets around them.

Mollie recoiled quickly, the wine splashing her skin and hair as she trembled at the scene taking place in front of her.

Micah stood up as quickly as his brother as James leaned over the table, his enormous frame shrouding the opposite end of the table in darkness. Their noses were inches apart and Mollie could see the ferocity glint within James’ eyes as he eyed his brother hatefully, his nostrils flaring. 

“I suppose we have it,” Rowan said coolly ignoring his brothers and turning towards Hartley.

“Micah will negotiate with the Ophians on our next shipment and hopefully subsequent ones if things go well enough. We’ll assemble our armies over the next few weeks and prepare for the travel.” 

“Perhaps it is best to make the travel from the North?” _Grigoire_ asked promptly, taking a swig from his goblet. “I believe our weapons are in highest number in _Icedalar.”_

“No,” Micah said slowly easing back into his seat as he addressed the man. “We go from the South. Take the _Granar Strait_ through _Les Crêtes de Bellême_ mountain range. It is less treacherous.”

“But a much _longer_ journey is it not young prince?”

The voice brought a hush over the table as the woman in gold began to speak. Her lips were painted a dark red and matched her nails that were complimented by long slender fingers. She tapped her glass lightly as she spoke.

She looked at Mollie suddenly, her eyes staring deep into Mollie’s, before turning back to the prince. 

“I believe time is not in our hands at the moment, it might be best to go from _Icedalar.”_

Micah was silent as he listened to the woman speak. She had a strong voice despite her slender frame. 

“But you promised my people passage through your lands,” Micah said curtly his pale eyes narrowing. 

“And that I will honour,” she said swiftly taking a sip from her goblet. 

“You spent much of your childhood in the North did you not? Your training was there?”

“Yes,” Micah said coldly. 

Mollie could feel him stiffen beside her and she wondered why Micah seemed so keen to avoid the North. He seemed to be going out of his way to prevent any sort of travel from that place.

“You are the progeny of December am I right? Winter is in your bones young prince. You are better off making the journey where you trained. You know those lands better than anyone at this table.”

There was a pregnant silence that followed this and Mollie watched as Micah toyed with the goblet in his left hand. His eyes were blank, void of all emotion-- but Mollie knew he was processing the womans words, going over one plausible scenario after scenario. 

“My people will send our forces to accompany you to the Obsidian Desert. Numbers will not be an issue.”

She paused for a moment as people around the table murmured and whispered.

“We’ll discuss my payment after this… negotiation takes place. For now, you have my word that our armies will merge for the duration of this journey.”

Micah was quiet as the woman turned towards Hartley, her dark eyes shimmering in the shadowy room. 

“I want to take the passage from the South,” Micah said quietly his green eyes glinting as he turned towards his father.

Mollie could hear the strain in his voice and she watched as Hartley turned his emotionless eyes on Micah. She felt a clenching fear in her gut at the way Hartley’s eyes bore into Micah’s, as if he were taking him apart piece by piece from the inside out.

The room was more silent than ever, the only sound the constant _drip, drip_ of wine hitting the floor from the spilled drinks splayed across the table. 

“You will go from the North dear boy,” Hartley said tonelessly, his voice soft and lulling and his lips barely moving. Mollie felt her insides turn to ice as she watched him speak. It was as if his lips were separated from the rest of his facial features and moved on their own accord. It was most unnerving and Mollie could feel her breaths stagger as she attempted to breathe normally. In spite of his soft lilting tone, Mollie would have preferred he snap the words at the prince. It was even more ominous when he spoke softly and Mollie felt as if each layer of his words carried with it a more foreboding chill. 

“As _Ophélie_ has mentioned, time is not on our hands. It would be best if you left for _Icedalar_ tomorrow morning. I will ensure all arrangements are made.”

Micah nodded at his father and turned his gaze towards his goblet, his gloved fingers tightening around the gold stem of the glass.

“I suppose a toast is in order. Our newest leader of the monarchy is off on his first journey after all.”

James had a sinister smile on his face and Mollie disliked the way his fingers drummed against the wood. 

“To our prince,” James said a fresh goblet in his hand as he raised it to his brother. “May his journey be safe, his health in good hands, and his sword always be a stained blade.”

Micah was quiet as his guests toasted in his honour before they happily drank from their full glasses. The gloved hand on Mollie’s shoulder couldn’t have come sooner and she happily rose to her feet, grateful to be free of the stares of several foreign men around her. 

“Micah,” said a swift voice from across the table. Mollie recognized Rowan’s voice and she heard a faint tinge of urgency within it. 

His eyes flickered to Mollie and she could see the scepticism in his eyes. It was a look of overt mistrust and she looked back at Rowan coldly. 

_“Un moment s’il te plait mon frère.”*_

Rowan gestured for Micah to step outside and she was automatically pulled by the arm as Micah clutched her wrist firmly, dragging her away from the frigid dining area and out into the cool spacious atrium. 

After turning several corners Mollie almost walked straight into the prince as he faced his brother against the hallway adorned with old paintings. There were no guards here as far as Mollie could see and she shivered at the dark hallway in front of her as Rowan glared at his brother.

“I hope you know what this means Micah,” he said coolly his usually easy going demeanour replaced with something hard and cold. 

Micah said nothing as his brother confronted him. He sighed as he let go of Mollie’s wrist.

Rowan’s eyes flickered to Mollie and for the first time she saw the blatant look of distaste in his eyes.

 _“Elle doit partir Micah,”*_ he said sternly his eyes fixed on his younger brother.

Rowan didn’t look at Mollie again but she had a faint feeling that whatever the subject matter was, had nothing to do with Micah’s position anymore and everything to do with her. Her French was limited but she was slowly picking up on it the more time she spent here. Micah ran a hand through his hair and Mollie watched his thick hair fall over onto his brow as he acknowledged his brother.

 _“Cela a assez duré,”*_ Rowan said coldly.

Micah seemed irritated and Mollie looked between the two of them in trepidation, unsure of what was to follow.

“Why the sudden interest Rowan?” Micah said rather disinterested.

Rowan narrowed his eyes at Micah’s stiff reply and Mollie watched his frown deepen.

“You know why.”

Voices began to filter in from further down the hall and Rowan’s eyes flickered upwards then back to Micah in seconds. Mollie could see his displeasure increase tenfold.

“Father won’t be happy,” Rowan murmured softly his thick brows furrowing. “There are too many ways this will end badly brother, mark my words.”

Micah smiled softly and Mollie winced as he wrapped his gloved hand around her own.

 _“En effet, trops de fins possible…mais toutes les mêmes,”*_ Micah said softly his face inching closer to his brother.

 _“Cela signifie?”*_ Rowan said softly raising an eyebrow.

 _“Qu’il n’y a qu’un seul dénouement auquel il ne s’attend pas,”*_ Micah said promptly. Mollie watched in silence as Micah stepped even closer to his brother, their noses almost brushing. _“And I like those odds.”_

With that he pulled Mollie forward sharply and began dragging her behind him, his footsteps echoing through the hall as Rowan watched them disappear into the dark hallway, his expression unfathomable and his stance as still and as discernible as a flickering lighthouse in the eye of a raging storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations in Order:  
> *It suits you
> 
> *I'll take care of it
> 
> *What's that?
> 
> *Eau de vie = Cognac
> 
> *We can't wait
> 
> *These unworthy tactics have not worked in the past and will not work in the future
> 
> *I beg to differ on both points.
> 
> *In English please
> 
> *What do you think Micah?
> 
> *Only power
> 
> *There is no guarantee for that
> 
> *Then my King, what do you propose?
> 
> *One moment please brother
> 
> *She has to go Micah
> 
> *This has gone on long enough 
> 
> *Indeed, too many endings...but all the same
> 
> *Which means?
> 
> *There is only one ending that he won't expect 
> 
> **Just a reminder this is fiction and iridium does NOT have all the properties depicted in this story**


	26. Fer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie is desperately awaiting her freedom from Questershire. But her time spent with Micah reveals something a lot more sinister is at play.

Mollie was trying to steady her breaths. 

She had only _just_ gotten her bearings following the rather eventful dinner before Micah had pulled her into a secluded room in the manor and slammed her against the gold trimmed wall. He didn’t even wait for them to make it back to his quarters. 

She could barely catch her breath as he unbuckled his slacks and bunched Mollie’s dress around her hips to expose her from the waist down. There was a desperation to his actions and Mollie was frozen as Micah maneuvered her into the room. He rested her head between two paintings on the far wall and inserted himself between her thighs so his cock nestled against the space between her legs. 

“Micah,” she breathed as he groaned against her neck. His body was pressed tightly against hers, his sharp narrow hips fitting snugly against her lean skinny frame. Mollie was suddenly struck by how well their bodies fit… _moulded_ against each other and she couldn’t help the sigh that left her lips as he brought his cold gloved hands against the blazing flesh of her thighs. 

Mollie shuddered as Micah brushed his two fingers against her slit, the moisture leaking onto her thighs. She looked up into the dead blank stares of the painted faces that were staring at her from around the room. They all had that cold, indiscernible look to them --the same one she saw in Hartley's eyes and the same one she saw in the man in front of her. It made her skin prickle with unease. She told herself they were just paintings...but something about their eyes, and their stiff stances made Mollie feel as if each of them were watching her now. Judging her...shaming her. 

“ _Mollie Mae_ ,” Micah breathed his cool breath fanning her chest as he sunk his fingers into her wet centre.

“Micah,” she said more forcefully. His fingers were making the pleasure waves wrack her brain and leaving her disoriented. “St-Stop..”

He slapped a hand harshly against her lips, the feel of cold leather against her face snapping her out of her pleasure induced haze. 

His eyes were hard and solid as they bore into hers and she could feel his hard insistent cock pressing against her lower abdomen. 

“Bite,” he said softly. The smooth leather of his gloved fingers inched closer against her lips and slowly he began to trace the outline.

Mollie acquiesced out of fear and she gently bit on the edge of glove to free his hand of the expensive material. His fingers brushed gently against her cheek and she closed her eyes as he switched hands so his exposed fingers pressed against her slit and his gloved one returned to cup her head. 

Mollie looked fearfully at the open doorway, her fear of getting caught overtaking her desire to succumb to the pleasure. 

“Micah,” she whispered as she writhed against his hard lean body. His fingers were like icy raindrops against her flesh and they slowly inched their way deeper and deeper into her slick channel. 

“ _Micah_ ,” she whispered more forcefully stiffening under his touch. This seemed to get his attention and Mollie watched as he opened his eyes and stilled in front of her. 

“Someone…” she hesitated. She felt whoreish standing there in front of him with her cheeks blazing, her legs straddling him, and her dress bunched haphazardly around her hips. Mollie knew there was a reason he always dressed her _sans_ underwear. He revelled in being able to expose her so readily. “Someone might see.”

Micah looked behind him, as if only realizing now that the door to the barren room they had entered was wide open. He looked back at her, his expression unreadable and Mollie braced herself against the wall. 

“Does that make you nervous?” he whispered. His fingers were still halfway penetrated in her folds and she moaned as he twisted them sharply before pulling them out slowly. She squirmed and sighed in spite of herself and the motion jerked her legs tighter around his frame. He smirked and brought his wet fingers towards her lips. “Are you afraid someone might see us?” 

She narrowed her eyes and smacked his hand away from her face. She tensed, unable to determine how he’d react and relaxed when he laughed at her reaction. “Don’t worry Mollie Mae,” he purred tracing her lips. “They know who you belong to. There’s no shame in displaying that affection.” 

She frowned and pushed herself up from the wall pulling her dress down as quickly and as discreetly as she could. 

“Well _I_ have shame,” she replied harshly folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I’m not a slave Micah.” 

Her words were a bit more caustic than she intended and she watched as his lips tightened ever so slightly. 

“Of course you aren’t,” he said quietly, his eyes darkening. “A slave knows better than to be so carelessly audacious.”

She bit her lip when he said this and tensed when he approached her again. She looked up in surprise when he removed his cloak to drape it around her shoulders. 

“Perhaps we should go somewhere more private then.”

Mollie watched him silently -- unsure but careful as he gently lead her out of the room and across the marbled floors of the colossal Questershire manor. 

***

When they reached the outdoors Mollie felt a liberating sense of freedom. She wished she appreciated the outdoors more. Growing up, she had grown accustomed to being stuck in a small kitchen... but still, she relished in the feeling of wind through her air and sunlight touching her skin. 

The sound of guards shuffling behind them interrupted Mollie’s thoughts and she watched as Micah grasped her hand firmly in his and pulled her towards the outskirts of the forest. His pace was quick and his speed had caught her off-guard. 

He was running. He was _actually running_. 

Mollie was struggling to keep up with him as he tugged her along. She would have to remember never to try to outrun the prince if the opportunity ever came along. The warm breeze combed her hair back and billowed Micah's thick cloak behind her. If Mollie didn’t know any better, she would assume he was running away from the guards, away from the manor --away from his obligations.

“Where are we going?” she gasped as he guided her through the thick underbrush that covered the forest floor. The last remnants of the sun were disappearing behind the thick sweeping darkness of the night sky and Mollie looked concernedly above them. It would be pitch black in a matter of hours and she worried whether they’d be able to find their way back. Micah seemed confident however and she followed grudgingly, still slightly wary of him. 

Mollie looked down in front of her to see that the long grass they had previously traversed through had transitioned into rocky terrain. Micah had slowed his steps in front of her and Mollie took a step forward apprehensively. Just beyond the narrowing ground was a steep menacing cliff complete with jagged rocks and crushing waves at the bottom. 

_He had led her to the edge of a fucking cliff._

She yelped and took a step backward just as Micah turned to steady her.

“Relax Mollie,” he said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Let me show you.”

Mollie narrowed her eyes and stood still in front of him, refusing to budge as he attempted to pull her forward.

“What? So you can push me to my death?” she said bitterly an edge of hysteria to her voice. 

Micah chuckled and tightened his grip on her arm despite her persistence. 

“No _ma chérie,”_ he said with a smile. “A fall like that would most likely maim you than it would kill you.”

She stiffened as he walked beside her looping an arm in her own. 

“Come.”

Mollie shuffled forward reluctantly as Micah led her closer to the edge. She gasped as he lifted her forwards onto a rather jagged edge of the cliff and felt Micah’s arm tighten around hers so she could maintain her balance. 

“How do I –“ she trailed off. The dark sky wasn’t helping her vision any more and she flayed her arms out in an effort to keep her balance. As he guided her down that first step she felt her foot meet soft lush grass. 

“Just lie down…yes – just like that.”

Mollie followed his orders. She didn’t have much choice and although she didn’t want to admit it…she _was_ rather curious. 

She huffed as he aided in gently laying her down so her head fell against the soft grass. She watched in silence as Micah elegantly brought himself down from above and slid into the little crevice beneath the cliff. The space was tight but somehow they both managed to fit their bodies onto this secluded piece of land. 

The grass hung over the edges of the rock creating a little cave, blocking out the cool breeze and providing a shield against the natural elements of the Southern weather. Mollie looked around her where little baby breaths and daisies surrounded the cascading edges and she was shocked to see such a stark contrast of beauty hidden beneath what first appeared to be dry rocky terrain. Micah laid himself beside her, rather cosily and she was at a loss for words at the sight that awaited her. In front of them was a pale pink sky fading into creeping navy where the last shrouds of the sun were disappearing behind a vortex of dark blue. On the opposite side were the beginnings of a large full moon slowly becoming more pigmented as the evening bore into night. 

“Wow,” Mollie said quietly staring out at the vision in front of her. 

Mollie never really got to see the sun or the moon. Not in Chartery and definitely not from her dingy old apartment. The only view she got were of beggars setting up camp for the night in the back-alley ways of the city or of the odd public punishment across the town square. On top of that, the smog that covered the city made it seem like the town was entrenched in a permanent bubble of grey smoke. It was rather industrial and no one came to Chartery…not for pleasure at least. 

To see nature in its purest and most clear form was something for the girl and she felt her insides warm just staring at what was in front of her. It was a view she would never get tired of and a view she would remember forever. 

“How did you find this place?” Mollie whispered feeling the warm breeze ripple through her thick curls. 

Mollie looked over to see that Micah had closed his eyes and was laying still beside her. His hands rested lightly on his abdomen as his chest rose and fell in rhythmic motions. Although he _appeared_ asleep Mollie knew he was simply resting, his ears and his reflexes as sharp as they always were. Not that she’d try anything now. He seemed to put at least _some_ trust in her. 

_“La Pointe de Noire,”_ Micah said quietly, his soft voice enough to fill the small secluded space they were sharing. Mollie didn’t even notice his lips move. “I come out here all the time. Helps clear my head.”

“Black point,” Mollie said suddenly piecing together bits and pieces of the language.

His eyes were still closed but she saw Micah smile when she said this. “That’s right. I’m glad to hear you're picking up on the language.” 

They sat in silence for some time, Mollie feeling the most sane she’d felt in a long time. She needed this, probably as much as him. Time away from those who sucked out your energy and left you a with a gaping void of hollowness. Maybe Micah was right, maybe he _did_ crave simplicity and isolation. Maybe as much as she did. But would he be willing to risk everything for it? His title? His position? His family? Mollie had nothing to lose...but with Micah it was the complete opposite. He had absolutely everything to lose. 

Although the colourful sky made its slow transition into an inky blue, Mollie had her eyes on the man beside her. She was suddenly struck by how… well… _young_ the prince looked. His eyebrows were dark, thick like his hair and they made his pale skin and defined features appear even more sharp. His cheeks were slightly blushed from the cool breeze and he had an almost imperceptible spray of freckles atop his nose. They had long since faded but Mollie realized he must have had them when he was a young boy.

Just like her. 

“What are you thinking about?” Mollie asked quietly as she tightened Micah’s cloak around her skinny body. 

“Lots of things,” he murmured, his lips barely moving. “Work…travel…business…you.”

Mollie frowned when she heard this and pulled the cloak tighter around her body. 

“You can’t be thinking about all of those things at the same time,” she muttered.

Micah simply smiled.

Mollie hesitated before she began speaking once more. 

"When do you plan on returning...after your trip?" she asked quietly glueing her eyes to the silvery threads scattered across the navy cloak. 

It wasn't Mollie's business and it certainly wasn't her concern, but she was curious. She didn't like how much of a burden Micah had to take on, especially now that he was CEO and especially now that she knew how much he _didn't_ want the position. 

"I can't give you a definitive answer for that question Mollie," he said. 

"So you may not make it back is what you're saying?" she asked softly, trying her best to keep her voice as clear cut as she could. 

Micah smirked when he heard this.

"That's always a possibility, for every trip I make." 

Mollie swallowed uneasily at this comment. 

"But then why were you so adamant to go North? Is there something bad up there?" 

Micah sighed audibly before he responded. 

"There's nothing inherently bad about the North," he said slowly running a hand through his dark locks. "I spent the majority of my time training there." 

He went quiet after this and Mollie figured he was collecting his thoughts...or perhaps planning on what exactly he wanted to tell her. 

_"Château de Glace_ is the citadel in the mountains of _Icedelar,"_ he explained. "It's more of a fortress really, militant in nature." 

"So you didn't grow up here?" she asked completely baffled. 

"No," he said quietly. Mollie looked over at him and saw that he was speaking to her even though his eyes were closed. He seemed jovial enough to indulge her curiosity tonight. 

"I'd come down and spend my summers here at the manor when I was very young. Sometimes even longer if I was lucky. I found it...difficult to leave after that, especially after spending months at a time here. So I thought it best not to come back at all." 

He didn't say it out loud but Mollie knew what he was alluding to. _It was less painful that way._ She also realized why he was barely in the public eye growing up. It made sense now. He must have preferred to spend his time training in the North rather than running things here in the South. Mollie had heard many stories about the North. Some of them were downright terrible and others so incredulous she doubted they were real. She remembered hearing stories about the man who ran the coin shop across from her bakery who took a job in one of the northern cities for a year. Lost all of his toes and his pinky finger in one night after getting stranded en route back to his chalet. The elements were harsh and unforgiving. Damn near inhabitable some said. Mollie remembered vividly how the man had cried and kissed the ground after seeing the sun through the smog filled sky in Chartery when he returned. He claimed daylight was not a concept in the North. Only grey and black skies in equilibrium with each other...in a state of constant alternation. She shuddered just thinking about how awful it must have been to grow up in a place like that.

"You seem to like the South a lot," she said suddenly feeling the breeze whip the soft grass against her knees. "Why stay North and train when you could be here full time?" 

Micah was quiet. Quiet for too long after this and Mollie figured it must have been a whole 6 minutes before he finally decided to give her an answer. 

"It's my birth town Mollie," he said quietly. "And a difficult city to navigate. It's also one of the closest cities to Ophian territory. Not many train in the North due to the harsh elements, but I regard it as a lifelong skill. No one knows the streets of the North better than I do. Not even my brothers."

"I always thought you were born here," she whispered her eyes flickering to the sky. Esperanza never explicitly told her Micah's birthplace but the old woman knew a lot more than she let on to Mollie. That must mean his dead sister was born in the North as well right? 

But _wait._

Esperanza had told her that Porphyria had wanted to be buried next to her baby and that was _here,_ in the heart of Questershire. Something didn't quite add up and Mollie was determined to get to the bottom of it.The crazy senile old lady was just full of secrets. She would have to approach her again before she left this place for good.

Micah had certainly indulged her inquisitiveness but she still felt as if there was something he _wasn't_ telling her. Something that demanded he adopt a fierce intransigent stance about returning to his birthtown. She was aching to know. Were the rumours concerning the North really true? Or was there something more insidious about it...something more than the bitter winters and biting cold that drove men to drop to their knees and weep when they spotted glimpses of the sun. 

Mollie remembered Rowans face earlier in the evening. The way he looked at Micah after suggesting they send this "special" shipment North. James seemed strongly opposed to it...almost as opposed to sending it North as Micah had been. Things only seemed to be getting more confusing for Mollie. Esperanza had been right about one thing. The more secrets of the Lyons she found out, the more befuddled she became. 

"What was Rowan talking about earlier...after the dinner." 

Mollie's voice was meek when she spoke but Micah didn't seem to react too much to the question. 

"Business as usual," he said brusquely. 

"He doesn't want me here," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. 

"It's not his concern," Micah said furrowing his brow. Thankfully his eyes remained closed but Mollie could sense the slight irritation in his tone.

He came here to escape from his responsibilities and yet here was Mollie, bringing them right back up as if he were still back in that dining room. Her curiosity would have to be subdued for now. He never disagreed with her though and Mollie was no fool. She heard their voices, the way Rowans cold eyes looked her up and down with overt distaste. He needn't worry. She'd be well on her way soon.

Instead, Mollie continued watching him. He looked so serene, so calm...so...free. Mollie felt that even slight movement from her part would ruin the moment, disturb him in some way. So she settled on remaining still by his side, watching him rest under the stars, his chest rising and falling in consecutive motions. His hair was windblown and thick, falling halfway over his brow with the rest laying loosely against the soft grass. Mollie felt a sudden overbearing urge to run her fingers through it, to feel the silkiness between her fingers and she quickly shifted so her bottom rested over her hands and she fisted them beneath her. 

“Are you done staring?”

Mollie snapped her eyes back to his face where she met clear green eyes staring into her own. 

“I wasn’t staring,” she said hotly turning her head towards the pale moon in front of them. 

He didn’t respond and Mollie saw that he had returned to his resting position, eyes closed and lips pulled in a crooked smile. She sighed. 

Mollie’s attention was diverted when she saw a flickering light in the distance a couple miles out into the open sea. Mollie squinted, and inched forward slightly to get a better look. It was a building with a little shore all to its own. The walls were peeling off what Mollie assumed used to be a thick rich white that had faded into a papery grey. The light was dazzling but the windowless building held a more foreboding tone that put Mollie on edge. She noticed a rickety brown boat bobbing against the shore and she felt a stomach lurch. Why did the rope attached to the boat look so…new?

_Was that a lighthouse?_

“Micah?” she hesitated, unsure if she was disturbing him. 

“Hm?” 

“What’s that building out in the open sea? The flickering one?”

She saw Micah’s eyes flash open and she shivered. His lips turned into a frown and Mollie didn’t like the way he perched himself forward so he rested lightly on his elbows. His gestures were not so fluid anymore, not so carefree. He was stiff again, his cold persona back in an instant. 

Mollie bit her lip. _Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut?_

“It’s a lighthouse.”

His tone was rather lifeless and she wrapped his cloak around her tightly. It smelled so much like him, a mix of something rich and earthy with a hint of citrus. 

“Oh,” she said softly trying to diffuse the tenseness. “For ships… of course, that makes sense.”

He didn’t say anything and she awkwardly looked away. 

Mollie turned sharply when she felt cool fingers begin to inch their way around her wrist. The pale digits slid up and down her bronzed skin and she felt her skin tingle at the feather-soft sensation. 

“Will you lie down for me?”

Mollie met his gaze and for a moment she could feel the longing desire within them, a sudden desperation that she hadn’t seen before.

“Why?” she asked as he began to push her chest down so her head hit the damp grass behind her.

“Because I said so.”

His tone had hardened slightly and Mollie watched as he began to remove the silk ascot around his throat and free himself from the expensive rich fabrics that covered his muscled body. 

“Is this secluded enough for you Mollie Mae?”

She had no answer for him and knew what he wanted from her…what he expected. There was no point delaying the inevitable. 

He had laid her down adeptly so her body was atop his rich cloak and not in contact with the grass. He was quick and urgent in his actions as he freed her of her pink slip of a dress and let the pale moonlight wash over her naked body. She was lying on her back, facing the cool wind that ruffled her hair and pricked her erect nipples. The feeling of the cold air on her naked slit sent her gasping and she nearly convulsed as he crawled over her, his body blocking the moonlight and shrouding the small patch of grass beneath the cliff in even more darkness than before. 

Micah’s naked body against her own was like ice meeting her skin and she marvelled at how _cold_ his skin was even amongst the warm southern ambiance. He didn’t even feel human. She groaned as he brought his icy finger tips to her breasts and squeezed. Mollie bit her lip hard when he began to roll her nipples between his fingers and the feeling of the cool wind between her thighs was doing little to pacify her already frenzied nerves. She shuddered as he pulled her nipples harshly the action making her slap her hips against his hard body hovering above her. 

“Relax yourself Mollie Mae,” Micah whispered sliding his palms across her mid-drift and down to her thighs. 

“Micah,” she breathed as he inched her legs open even wider. God he was so good with his fingers... _so_ good at making her feel a pleasure so deep and fulfilling it made her heart skip a beat and left her brain in a state of utter delirium. Her eyes snapped open when he grasped her hand in his and brought it slowly to her leaking hole. 

_Wait._

Mollie protested as Micah guided her fingers inside of her. 

_“Relax,”_ he said cutting her off. She quieted as he inched their intertwined fingers in and out of her slick channel. Mollie grunted in pain for a moment as her canal stretched to accommodate the unusually large size. Mollie could feel the stretch of her vaginal walls as he guided their fingers in and out of her as she writhed beneath him. 

This was different, very different.

Before she could take a breath Micah’s lips met hers and she moaned against his mouth as he continued moving their fingers in and out of her. Mollie was breathless, her thoughts an intangible mess of pleasure and disgust.

He continued this for some time his fingers pressing against her pulsating clitoris as he continued his movements…in and out. Mollie was clumsy, her fingers doing little to stimulate herself as she relied on Micah’s dexterous fingers to take the lead. She was so close… _so_ close. She could feel the heat inching up from her abdomen to her torso, her orgasm a rising flame that was reaching its peak. She had closed her eyes at this point, anticipating that feeling of pleasure that would soon consume her from the inside out. 

Micah had brushed his lips down to her throat and chuckled against her neck. He seemed to be enjoying some sort of inside joke and Mollie felt self conscious as his smile widened against her neck. 

“Is this your first time pleasuring yourself Mollie?”

His voice was husky and soft but Mollie could hear the amusement in his tone. Her eyes flashed open and she nearly whimpered in disappointment when his fingers came to an untimely halt near her longing pussy.

_Was it that obvious?_

“No,” she said immediately feeling her cheeks burn at his question. She was still breathless from her near orgasm and she tried to hide her irritation at not reaching it. 

Micah dropped his eyes to her body and slowly brought their wet fingers up to her face so she could observe the slick that dripped down her wrist. 

He simply raised an eyebrow and Mollie felt her skin tingle with embarrassment. 

_“Mon dieu,”_ he said softly smearing her juices against her quivering thighs. “You poor thing.”

Mollie scoffed at him and pushed his hand away. He was teasing her and Mollie felt the blush extend to her hairline. 

“It’s not the first time,” she said heatedly staring hard at him as he hovered over her. Mollie knew it was futile lying to him, even when her body made it so painfully obvious of her current sexual state. But she hated admitting he was right. 

“Right,” he said off-handily the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable. “Perhaps I’m just _that_ good.”

He had a smirk on his face and Mollie resisted the urge to knee him in the crotch. Before she could turn over, she realized the prince was as naked as her…his hips bare from the waist onwards. 

She gulped as she met his eyes, the look of raw unfulfilled satiation present within them. 

He had a curious glint in his eye as he looked at Mollie and she wondered what was going through his mind. 

“Turn over,” he said suddenly rolling her body forward. Mollie gasped at the sudden transition and felt her breath leave her chest as Micah quickly turned them over so she now hovered over him. His head was atop the lush grass and his pale body was a stark contrast against the navy cloak. It gave his skin a luminescence and Mollie felt her elbows give way as she struggled to keep herself balanced above him. 

Mollie felt Micah snake his hands up her naked chest and down towards her hips as pressed himself upward so his thick cock brushed her wet opening. 

“Why don’t you take the lead this time _ma choupinette?_ I think I’ve taught you well enough at this point.”

Mollie writhed above him, her fidgeting a pathetic attempt to free herself from his firm grasp. 

“I..I don’t…I can’t…I’m not sure what-.”

Mollie stumbled over her words as Micah squeezed her hipbone tightly the cool ring on his finger feeling like an ice block against her naked hip. The necklace dangled down beneath her chin, the precious silver glinting in the darkness. 

“Don’t overthink it Mollie,” he whispered taking her hand in his. 

She released her breath when she felt Micah wrap her fingers around his hot pulsating cock. 

“You’re a smart girl,” he said dropping his head back to the ground and closing his eyes in anticipation. “You’ll figure it out.”

His condescending comment irked Mollie but she didn’t see a way out of it. Grudgingly she grasped his cock firmly in her hand and decided to stroke it, feeling its girth and texture beneath her soft fingers. She couldn’t see too well due to the darkness but she could feel every bit of it, the weight…the heat…the _size._

Micah groaned beneath her and she figured she was doing something right. She continued this for some time, her fingers dampening more with each subsequent stroke as the tip began to leak a clear liquid substance.

“Oh _Mollie.”_

The disappointing tone of his voice startled her and she yelped freeing her hands as he perched himself forward so he sat in front of her, his cock pressing against her inner thigh.

He brushed his hair back, his dark curls making his skin seem even more pale in the darkness. Even his eyes gave off a bright green aura of their own. 

“Not like that,” he said with a sigh, his voice sounding rather…fatigued. “The foreplay is over Mollie,” he explained in a huff. Mollie could feel his penis soften against her thigh and she cringed. “Just….”

Mollie felt a surge of emotions flow through her and before she could properly process her thoughts she pushed the prince down so his head hit the ground with an audible thud.

Mollie heard him swear but before he could retaliate she had already straddled him and grabbed a hold of his long thick cock. 

“You want a good fuck? Is that what you want from me?” she hissed straddling her hips taut against his own.

He froze beneath her and as fluidly and as quickly as she could she squeezed his member and positioned her trembling limbs above him. Mollie knew how this was done… in theory. But the promises she had made to herself and her ideologies about sex had been something she had carried with her for a long time. And in that moment, she was about to throw them all away. 

Mollie tightened her grip and sunk down on the hardening cock as Micah clutched at her wrists folding them into her chest. He was breathless, most likely rendered speechless by her frigid response and she yanked his palms up so they cupped her small breasts. 

If this was what he wanted so be it.

Her own boldness surprised her but Mollie was not one to be ridiculed. The penetration left Mollie panting as he snapped his hips up to meet hers, her knees digging into the soft fabric of the cloak below them as their slick bodies slapped against each other. The prince seemed to have regained his bearings and Mollie cried out as he increased his pace and his depth. He slipped so far into her she couldn’t even hear herself scream as his swollen member caressed her cervix. The tears were flowing down her face --out of anger…out of shame…out of desperate passion? Mollie had no clue. 

Mollie was clutching his forearms as he continued his thrusts, their moans entwining as her thick curls bounced with each upward motion of the dark haired man below her. He was quiet as he fucked her, the only sounds emitting from his soft lips that of breathless moans and pants. Mollie looked down to see that his eyes were fixed on her chest— his eyes following the movements of her breasts as they bounced with each upward motion of his hips.

Mollie arched her back and shook as he hit something deep within her that reduced her to breathless sobs with each thrust of his hips. Her hands dragged down his muscular forearms to slap against his pale chest and she mewled in pleasure as the rush of adrenaline combined with her raw approaching orgasm absolutely consumed her. This angle hit differently and Mollie felt as if her belly was resting on hot coals. His cock was like a raging flame within her slick walls, red hot yet ice cold all at once and as smooth as the skin on his chest. His fingers pressed at her swollen clit, inching her closer and closer to her climax. Mollie’s body was in a state of hypersensitivity and she all but whined as he pinched her clit once...twice before dragging his fingers back towards her hips, leaving a trail of wetness along her bronzed skin. Her legs felt like jelly and her arms like brittle twigs as Micah groaned into the cloth covered ground but not before releasing a thick stream of white into her spasming pussy. 

In one last huff of breath Mollie collapsed onto him, his length still fully engulfed within her twitching walls as she fell against his neck. His usually cold skin was warm for once and she felt the tears smear against her cheeks as she let out a long guttural moan into the crook of his neck.

They lay like that for some time, both of them catching their breaths as the full moon shone its pale illuminance onto their intertwined bodies. 

She felt Micah chuckle against her ear and she lifted her head in time to catch his gaze. His stray curls were stuck damp against his forehead from exertion and his cheeks were pink from the cool air. 

“I was going to suggest we make love Mollie Mae,” he said softly, his voice still breathless. “Not fuck into the next dimension beneath the cosmos.”

Mollie still couldn’t speak, her own actions were as much of a surprise to her as it was to him. Perhaps it was the little voice in her mind telling her it could be the last time she’d be near him…make love to him. He left tomorrow after all. And little did he know Mollie would not be here by the time he returned. 

She should be happy. She _would_ be happy. 

She stilled as Micah cupped her cheeks in his and kissed her, his cock still engulfed in her hot centre. He made a low noise in his throat as he shifted beneath her and Mollie fumbled as he held her jaw open to entwine his tongue with hers and lick into the deep caverns of her mouth. 

Mollie lost all concept of time and space as he continued the deep kiss right until the moment Mollie was gasping for air. Only then did he release her, letting her tired head loll against his hard shoulder blade. She felt his cock slide out of her as he nestled to her side pulling the cloak out from beneath him. The pale moonlight shed light over them and Mollie watched as Micah expertly pulled his pants up and proceeded to drape the cloak around Mollie’s naked form. 

She pulled it tightly around herself, the warmth of the cloak taking her by surprise. The cloak was a direct replica of the night sky with the rich navy material and the silver stitches intricately woven into the thick but flexible fabric. She remembered Micah telling her the stitches were made of six different silks –all of which were produced from the webs released from the spinnerets at the end of a spiders abdomen. She ran her fingers across the priceless fabric feeling the different textures against her skin. She liked running her fingers against the silvery lining surrounding the perimeter of the cloak. This one was made from the silk of a golden orb spider – stronger than steel yet 50 times lighter than the actual element. The craftsmanship was beyond comparable and Mollie marvelled at its beauty. 

“Look Mollie,” Micah whispered against her forehead brushing her thick hair to one side. “You see that?”

Mollie groaned as she flipped herself to lay on her back like the prince, her eyes on the starry sky above them. It was a pleasant cloudless night out, thankfully, but there was still a cool breeze that sent goosebumps erupting against Mollie’s skin. 

She waited expectantly as Micah pulled her closer against him.

“That there is _Polaris_ , the North Star.”

Mollie followed his gaze towards the bright round star in the sky that seemed to be slightly below a freckle of others above it. 

“How do you know that?” she asked tiredly, turning to look at him.

“The same way you know how to bake,” he said smoothly glancing briefly at her. “Someone taught me how to read the night sky.”

She considered this as Micah’s eyes flickered across the specks of light dotting the blanket of darkness above them. He seemed to be reading the sky as if he were reading a book and it baffled Mollie. 

“Why?” she asked curiously only seeing random specks of stars above her. “What’s the point in that?”

Micah was quiet for some time before he responded.

“It’s a helpful tool Mollie,” he said softly. There was no judgment in his tone and Mollie was somewhat grateful for that. “In case one is ever lost, without a map, a compass, or something to use as a navigational tool, they can always rely on the night sky to lead them back to their desired destination.”

He was explaining quietly to her and Mollie listened intently. He was good at that --explaining things--as much as Mollie hated to admit it. He made complex concepts seem so straightforward and she took advantage of this in these moments. Mollie wouldn’t go so far as to say that she soaked information up like a sponge…but she certainly learned quickly. It’s that skill that had gotten her this far. 

“Like the sun, the stars migrate across the sky from east to west. If you keep track of which direction they appear to be moving you can easily determine which way you are facing. If you desire something a bit more precise, you look for _Mintaka._ It is located on the right side of Orion’s belt. It’s one of the few stars that rises close to true east and sets close to true west.”

Mollie was being lulled to sleep by his gentle voice but she wanted to stay awake. She wanted to keep him talking. 

“The stars appear so much brighter in the North,” he mused. “But it’s just an illusion. The white landscape contrasting against the black sky gives it a more fantastical aura. I’ll take you out to see it on a clear night.” 

Mollie snapped her eyes open when she heard this and in spite of herself she shifted sharply feeling her hip collide with the prince’s. Micah turned his head towards her and Mollie could feel a heavy pressure begin to rise in her chest.

“What did you say?” she asked, her voice wavering. 

Micah sat up slowly his pale chest appearing even paler in the white light of the moon. 

“I said I’d take you out to see it…that is if you have an interest.”

His voice went rather dead after that and Mollie felt her lips tremble. 

“Where?” she asked, hating the way her voice broke into a whisper as the hard heavy truth weighed down upon her.

“In _Icedalar,”_ he said calmly. “The trip is a long one Mollie Mae. But I promise, the view of that sky is worth the travel. You’ll simply adore it.”


	27. Cobalt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The treacherous journey to the North begins.

Mollie didn’t feel like herself.

She was dressed and standing awkwardly on the Questershire grounds, her thick ice blue coat buttoned up to her neck. Her curls were lush and healthy, cascading down her back in a pin up style and her feet sunk uncomfortably in the moist grass as she shifted restlessly. She froze when she caught sight of her reflection in one of the glass windows of the manor. She certainly didn’t just feel different, she well...looked different. Almost unrecognizable with her smooth skin, glossy hair and expensive clothes. 

She looked... _rich._

Her appearance unsettled her immensely and she looked away quickly and continued waiting as instructed on the grounds. There was a large ornate carriage further down the road that made the ones that circled around Chartery seem like a wagon on wheels. Mollie wondered why they settled on a carriage for transportation. The Lyons were more than capable of using an automobile. 

Micah hadn’t come yet and Mollie was waiting outside with a guard who looked less than pleased to be watching over her. His scowl deepened when Mollie made eye contact with him and she turned towards the carriage further down the pathway instead, feeling her heart ache. 

_"Maybe he won’t come,"_ said some small voice at the back of her mind. _“Maybe he decided to delay till next week?”_

Mollie jumped when the guard shuffled forward, a step farther away from her and turned towards a noise coming from just beyond the gardens. It echoed out across the clearing. 

“Wait here one moment,” he said gruffly. 

Mollie watched as he shuffled towards the entrance to the gardens his hand on the hilt of his sword. Mollie stood and waited. She looked around her and bit her lip as she weighed her options. Maybe she could make make a run for it now, maybe she’d have a chance-

Mollie saw a shadow begin to gradually grow as a figure appeared in the arched entrance of the manor and she quickly straightened up. She tensed, expecting one of the Lyons to stride forward. Instead, she was taken aback when a little girl began running outside into the fields followed by a big white wolf. Mollie stiffened for the briefest moment, the surprise tanking into her like a lightening bolt hitting the ground. 

Mollie went into full fight or flight mode launching herself towards the girl as the wolf padded behind her. She didn’t even think twice, she simply reacted. She stopped abruptly when the wolf began licking the girls face as she screamed and giggled on the ground.

The girl looked no more than four or five to Mollie and she had an innocence about her that pulled at the strings of Mollie’s heart. The girl was cute, her chocolate brown hair in two long pigtails complete with red ribbons that matched her dress. She looked mousy from the back...familiar to Mollie and she couldn’t help but stare at her as the little girl bounced and played with the animal in front of her. The little girl seemed to realize she wasn’t alone and Mollie watched as she quickly straightened up and dusted herself off in a rehearsed and frantic manner. She looked at Mollie with wide eyes and Mollie felt her body jolt. 

“Zeta?“ she whispered, the wind stealing her words away. 

No. That couldn’t be right. This girl was dressed like one of those poster babies they had in store windows within the wealthier parts of town. She was healthy and vibrant and the little bracelets that adorned her chubby wrists suggested she was from a rich family. But her face...that face could have been an exact replica of that little girl Mollie first encountered in the manor. 

She had wide blue eyes that met Mollie’s and the girl quickly curtsied at Mollie and looked down as if she had done something wrong. Mollie was frozen as the girl shuffled over to her, the wolf nudging her side with its snout as it tried to get the girl to continue playing with it. 

Mollie was convinced the girl was the offspring of one of the Lyons and she felt her stomach roil with disgust. The girl could have belonged to Micah, maybe James…definitely not Rowan, but the eyes threw her off. Why were they blue? She swallowed uneasily. She wouldn’t even be surprised if the girl belonged to Hartley himself. 

“Please to meet your acquaintance,” she said timidly with a high pitched squeaky voice reflective of a young child. 

Mollie realized with a start that the girl thought she was a quaternary citizen like herself and she hesitated. 

Mollie recognized Micah’s wolf standing behind the little girl and she didn’t like how it bared its teeth when she met its eyes. She wondered who this girl belonged to. She felt her stomach roll thinking of the possibilities. 

“I like your hair,“ the girl said timidly clasping her hands together. She had a little blush to her cheeks and Mollie found herself smiling back at her in spite of herself. “I wish I had curls like that.” 

Mollie took a breath, unsure of how to respond. Was she even allowed to be speaking to this girl?

The girl seemed put out Mollie hadn’t responded and she cocked her head to the side.

 _“Parlez-vous Anglais?”_ The girl said suddenly staring up into Mollie’s face.

“I’m sorry…” Mollie started glancing around her. “Do you live here?”

The girl perked up when Mollie answered and she hesitated as Theo the wolf lay down only metres away from where she and the girl were standing. Its blue eyes never left her. 

“Used to,” she said rather sadly glancing at the manor. “But Papa is making us move and I hate it.”

Mollie felt her throat go dry when she heard this. 

“Why is your Papa making you move?” Mollie asked looking around. 

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “But _Maman_ isn’t happy about it.”

Mollie felt her insides coil hearing this and she frowned as the girl began to pick at the grass near their feet and twirl the pieces in her little fingers. 

_"That doesn’t last long,"_ Mollie thought sadly watching the girl chatter to herself as she plopped down on the grass near the wolf. Especially in a place like this. 

She stepped back when several people filed out of the arched doorway of the manor towards the field. The guard from the gardens was making his way back slowly too, an annoyed expression on his face. But Mollie had her eyes on the prince, directly in the centre of the large group of men approaching her. There were about six or seven and they were all speaking quickly, chattering in French and English as they honed in around Micah, creating an almost impenetrable bubble around him. Mollie could see the men were careful not to touch him but still the prince looked irritated. He wore a jet black coat with large brass buttons along with his staple black gloves that extended slightly past his wrists. Mollie blushed as she spotted the navy cloak billowing behind him as the men around him struggled to match his pace. He barely responded to the conversations around him and he hadn’t quite made his way close enough to notice that Mollie was waiting for him. 

The little girl had stopped her chatter when she heard the men approach and Mollie saw her leap up with delight when she spotted them. 

“Uncle Micah!” She cried out in a shrill voice running towards the prince. The men took a step back and Mollie watched as Micah smiled at the girl as she ran towards him. He lifted her effortlessly into his arms and held her as he continued his walk towards the carriage. 

_Uncle?_

He was murmuring to her as she smiled and giggled in his arms. When Micah’s green eyes finally met hers she saw his smile widen into something dazzling. 

“You are a sight to see today Mollie,” he said quietly as the little girl turned in his arms to look at her. 

He was standing only a short distance away and Mollie watched as the men behind the prince stopped a little farther down the grounds. They didn’t bother to hide their frowns as they looked at Mollie. 

“Isn’t she beautiful Nina?”

He turned towards the girl and she looked shyly at Mollie fisting her hands in Micah’s rich cloak. 

“Beautiful?” she said questioningly turning to Micah with a furrowed brow. 

_“Belle,”_ he said softly as if in explanation. _“Comme toi,”_ he said quietly as he put her down.

Mollie was surprised. Micah didn’t strike her as the paternal kind and she was quite taken aback by the interaction. He seemed to genuinely care for the girl and the girl seemed rather fond of him herself. 

_“Va chercher ta mère,”_ Micah said quietly as she scampered away over the grounds. 

Mollie watched as she ran on her little legs towards the entrance her pigtails flying behind her. Mollie couldn’t help but feel as if little Zeta were looking out of her through those eyes. What different lives they lived despite being around the same age…despite living on the same grounds. It made Mollie sick. 

“She’s cute,” Mollie said coolly. “Kind of like the slave girl I met on my first day here.”

The smile on Micah’s face dropped immediately and she gasped in pain as he grabbed her wrist sharply jerking her forward.

“Behave yourself Mollie,” he said tightly digging his nails into her arm.

She frowned at his coldness and watched as he flicked his wrist forward for his entourage to follow. 

Mollie was bitter. Bitter that things hadn’t gone her way and frustrated that Hartley Lyon put a fork in her plans without even batting an eyelid. She would have been able to escape from here if it wasn’t for him insisting Micah left today. 

Micah loaded Mollie roughly into the carriage and she hung her head miserably against the window as he turned towards the men behind him. The interior of the carriage was luxurious, and painted in tasteful pastels along with soft pillows and a beautiful arched window. Mollie couldn’t care less. She was in a sour mood and she dreaded the journey that awaited her. 

“Would you review these papers Master Lyon?” said another man before Micah could slide himself in. 

Mollie stared out of the window as she waited and spotted James in the distance. He seemed to be arguing with someone. Mollie recognized that long red hair and she inched forward in interest. The red headed women looked agitated as James ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The little girl was tugging on her fathers coat and Mollie watched as James sighed and picked her up.

When Mollie looked closer she got a shock when she saw the red rimmed eyes and pale skin of the red headed woman. She looked so different from the first time Mollie had seen her. She was so glamorous…so put together. But now...she looked like any regular woman from the street. A regular woman in distress. Mollie knew that look. It was the look of having cried your eyes out for the entire night. Mollie was openly staring from her view in the carriage and she watched as James smiled with his daughter and carried her inside as the woman outside sunk to her knees and wept. 

Her view was obscured as men from what Mollie assumed to be Micah’s cabinet shuffled past the carriage to speak one last time with the prince before he departed. It seemed as if another hour went by before the prince finally slid in across from Mollie in the tight space. The sun had risen over the lush grounds of the manor casting a warm orange glow over the garden and onto the aged stone of Questershire Manor. They took off immediately and when Mollie looked back out into the distance the red headed woman was nowhere to be seen. 

The carriage was a little bumpy but nothing compared to the ones she had been in back home. Micah had documents in his hands and he seemed to be engrossed with whatever was written across them. She leaned her head against the window and sighed. The manor grew smaller and smaller in the distance as they left, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. 

***

Mollie didn’t sleep well last night. She must have fallen asleep out at the cliff with Micah. When she woke up her head hurt and so did her knees and she was somehow back in the manor. Esperanza was absent so Mollie was prepped and dolled up by another younger servant who was as silent as Mollie. To add to her problems, Mollie was convinced the old woman was purposely avoiding her. Maybe she was afraid Mollie had told Micah what she had told Mollie in good faith. But Mollie wasn’t the type. Surely the woman knew this? Unless something happened to her? She chewed on her thumbnail as she considered this.

“Mollie?” 

She jerked and looked forward to see Micah’s eyes on her. He had a blank expression on his face, the one he had during meetings. 

_“À quoi tu penses?”_ he murmured.

She pouted and looked out the window ignoring him. 

She knew it wasn’t really his fault, but she couldn’t help but feel as if a heavy cloud of despair had rained upon her. The North was not pleasant. Rumours always started from somewhere and she had heard her fair share.

Mollie did not like the cold. She was a southern girl after all, who had spent a chunk of her childhood running through warm green fields and gathering water from streams. She was familiar with the feel of the sun shining on her back and the liberation that came with loose dresses and airy blouses. She was not _built_ for the cold. 

Mollie was lucky in the sense that Chartery had short winters that never really surpassed the -5 degree mark. But her lack of experience bothered her and she feared what was to come. 

Micah didn’t speak to her again for a long time as the carriage continued rolling forward. Mollie watched as they passed green sprawling hills and fresh open land and the occasional border of an ocean.

Lyon Land Mollie thought bitterly. They owned all of it. 

***

Mollie alternated between resting and staring out of the window of the carriage as they passed from town to town. Micah would rouse her occasionally to eat and drink but never initiated another conversation and to be honest, Mollie was glad he didn’t. It must have been a full two days of nonstop travel for them and Mollie had slowly gotten used to the rocking, unsteady motions of the carriage as it passed through cobbled roads, dusty sand, and unpaved gravel. 

Mollie dozed off again after some time and when she woke up the carriage had stopped and she was alone in the tight compartment. She jerked awake and frantically looked around her. She heard shuffling from above her and she recoiled as the door opened to reveal a rather elderly guard in his uniform. 

“Ah you are awake now,” he said in a gravelly voice, his thick beard muffling his words. “Master Lyon is out by the shore if you care to join him.” He paused, his eyes looking Mollie up and down. 

He had a rather soft and polite voice and it was one of the rare moments a guard didn’t look at her as if she were a primary citizen. He held no judgment in his eyes, only slight curiosity and a stance that suggested he knew his job well. He had a thick accent on top of his beard that made it difficult for Mollie to understand him. 

She sighed as she considered it. It was better than staying in the carriage for another day or so. She might as well get some fresh air while she could and stretch her sore muscles. 

She shuffled forward out of the carriage and hopped down onto a dusty cobbled road. There was a sharp wind that pierced the air and Mollie pulled her coat tighter around her, thankful that she was dressed warmly. She could already feel the vast difference in temperature from when they left Questershire. 

_“Suivez-moi Mademoiselle.”_

Mollie shuffled nervously as the guard took her arm in his and led her a little ways down the road. She tensed when she realized there were two other guards following them a couple metres behind and a couple metres ahead. The bulked up security sent a tingle down her spine and she looked around her uncomfortably. Flashbacks of Logan Lyon went through her mind. This was how he died wasn’t it? Travelling from one city to another. Mollie was pretty sure another brother died in the same way too…what was his name?

She spotted Micah at the start of a rotting wooden boardwalk that ventured far towards a murky green sea. He was speaking with someone, a guard it seemed. It was cloudy and chilly wherever they were with a foggy green haze that seemed to settle around the town. It was a poor town, Mollie could tell from the little stone shacks and dirty cobbled roads. 

The guard bowed once before the prince as he tipped his hat back onto his head. He seemed to purposely avoid looking at Mollie and made a point of fully walking around her instead of past her as he followed the cobbled road back to town. 

“Have you eaten?” 

Micah’s voice had a stiff formal tone to it and Mollie felt uncomfortable speaking to him with all these guards within hearing distance. It felt incredibly intrusive. It made sense now why he valued his alone time so greatly. Those moments were few and far between.

“No,” she said softly glancing behind her. “I’m not really hungry.”

In fact Mollie had lacked an appetite since they started the trip what must have been a couple days ago. Her dread about the impending North had stressed her out to the point that she was neglecting her basic physiological needs. 

“You won’t be able to keep your strength if you don’t take care of yourself Mollie.” 

Micah’s voice was sharp and reprimanding as Mollie inhaled slowly. 

He stepped closer to her and smoothed out the collar on her expensive coat. He leaned in so his voice was as swift as the wind around them. “And you’re going to need all the strength you have when we arrive.” 

Mollie felt as if he were giving her a private warning, to be on her guard. His eyes shimmered in the foggy haze as she looked down at her shoes, her boots sinking in the wet sand. 

“It’s a good thing you were able to get some fresh air,” the prince murmured tucking some loose strands of Mollie’s hair behind her ear. “We won’t make another stop until we reach _Le Chateaû_ tomorrow evening.”

Mollie knew they were close. There was a sharp chill in the air and there was not a single flower or fragment of plant life that Mollie had seen for a while. Everything seemed…dead. As if time itself was as frozen as the surface of the sea in front of them. 

_“Damien, viens ici pour un moment.”_

Micah turned quite abruptly leaving Mollie alone on the shore as he stepped back to discuss something with the guard that had brought her here. There were boxes being unloaded from the carriages that followed them here. Boxes of sealed packages that seemed oddly mysterious. Mollie was tempted to venture closer to investigate but before she could move the guard had inserted his arm within hers and guided her back towards the carriage.

Mollie fumed as box upon box was loaded onto the edge of the port where the prince stood. He looked calm and at ease as he always did, watching the operation unfold in front of him. Whatever was going on Mollie knew it couldn't be good. Nothing good came out of business transactions with the Lyons. Even so, why would a poor town like this one be of any interest to the Lyons in the first place? 

Mollie couldn’t see anything across the frozen expanse of water except for a hazy green smog and thick stratus clouds spread across the grey blanket of the sky. She tightened her coat and slipped on her gloves as she trudged back to the carriage her heart as cold and as grey as the atmosphere that surrounded her.

***

Mollie woke up in a shiver, a chilly prickling sensation that electrified the hair on her arms and reverberated past the periosteum layer of her bone to sink past the spongy cancellous layer directly into her marrow. She felt it in her core and she saw her breath release in puffs as she stared in shock through the carved window of the carriage. There wasn’t a single colour in sight except for pure blinding white. It was like a heavy weighted blanket that continued to shed its fluff upon every surface it touched. There was a whistling to the wind, almost as if God himself was blowing His mighty breaths against the layers of lint that shed from what lay upon His land.

It must have been sometime late in the evening —maybe even past midnight but the rolling of the carriage made it hard for her to see if there was yet a moon in the sky. Maybe they were close? Mollie was getting restless and the walls of the carriage were no less than the equivalent of a jail cell to her. She had been trying her best to keep the question from sliding past her lips, but she had asked the prince twice already and his answer had been the same. 

_“Soon.”_

They would get there soon. But to Mollie, soon still felt like an eternity away. 

“Micah?” She whispered tearing her eyes away from the window. The carriage was dark, the single ornate candelabra hanging from the low ceiling ignited with less than half of the candles it usually adorned. It casted the faintest softest tones of yellow along the small space. 

The prince’s face was mostly shadowed except for the faintest shroud of candlelight and Mollie cringed when she realized she had roused him from sleep. 

She hesitated as his eyes blinked open slowly. He remained still and upright, never once suggesting that he had relaxed his stance in any shape or form, even while resting. 

He said not a word but raised an eyebrow in question — an invitation for Mollie to proceed. 

Unlike her, he was used to this trip. The familiarity was evident in his rehearsed demeanour. Mollie couldn’t even begin to imagine making this trip multiple times and she understood then why he would rather _not_ travel back and forth. Although the luxury of the carriage offered some comfort, it did not outweigh the longevity nor the loneliness of the travel. 

She bit her lip as he stared at her. Waiting. He was waiting for her to ask her question and she figured it was better if she backtracked. She didn’t need to show him she was as much of a nuisance as she felt. 

“What...what time is it?”

Even she couldn’t help but cringe at the pathetic nature of her own question. Yet it was better than her robotically demanding how far it was till they arrived. 

“Late.” 

His blunt answer made her blush and she swiftly dropped her gaze. His eyes had closed again and she found herself shifting on the cushioned seat across from him. Her legs cramped from the lack of movement and her mind wandered as they passed white landscape after white landscape. The temperature continued to drop and Mollie found herself tightening the buttons on the collar of her coat. Micah was still across from her, the only indication that he was still a living form being the soft rise and fall of his chest. He was also a light sleeper--the opposite from Mollie who slept like the dead once she eventually cycled through the non-REM stages. 

“Here.” 

Mollie jumped when she saw the prince quickly reach below their seats to grab a thick fluffy blanket that he promptly plopped onto Mollie’s lap. She had thought he had fallen back asleep but his quick movements had alerted her otherwise.

“You’re cold.”

He said it as more of a statement than anything else and Mollie wordlessly tugged the material around her, sighing as the warmth of the material pressed into her skin.

“Better?” 

His eyes had softened somewhat when they scanned over her beneath the blanket and she nodded. 

”Good,” he murmured inching closer across the cramped space. 

His sharp features were on full display beneath the candlelight and Mollie found herself tracing his sculpted jaw, up past his slender perfectly shaped nose towards those painstakingly vibrant green irises. His lips parted, the soft pink a beautiful delicate addition to his aristocratic features. She clenched her fists beneath the blanket, her anger from the unfairness of her situation still simmering somewhat inside her.

He was studying her now, counting how many times she turned towards the window, ran a hand through her hair. Mollie even believed he was keeping count of how many times she bit her lip in anxiety as she turned to stare out the window once again. 

How befitting it was that they called him the Winter Prince. Now that she was aware of it, she could not — she _would_ not be able to see him as anything but. He craved the freedom and the warmth of the summer, yet he belonged in the North. _No,_ he craved a lot of things...this Mollie knew. But would he ever allow himself the liberties of indulging in them? His features were cold and icy -- his personality nothing short of strictly obdurate...no different from the qualities of winter but... his actions mirrored them too. Micah was principled, more so than his brothers; but Mollie figured this was more of a personal choice than it was an acquiescence. He had broken though this barrier only twice. When he escaped with Mollie to the cottage and the night before when he took her out to the cliffside. But every other time...he was indeed the perfect prince. The perfect Lyon. The perfect heir to an equally icy empire, colder than the glacial cliffs that encompassed the surrounding mountains. 

Mollie blinked in surprise when he fluidly shifted so he now sat beside her on the soft cushioned seat of the carriage. His eyes were burning a whole through her own and she leaned away as he brought his fingers towards a sliver of exposed flesh on her neck. The cool leather touched her skin and she shivered feeling the coldness blossom against her sensitive flesh. 

“Hmm,” he breathed.

Micah wasn't wearing even half of the layers she had piled on yet somehow, he seemed at ease where they were. The cold didn't seep into his bones like it did for her. 

His hand moved delicately down her neck and across her chest to rest lightly on her abdomen for a second. The movement of the carriage seemed like a backdrop in an old fashioned film as he slid his hand further. She could barely register the bumpiness or slight sway of the transport; she could barely even remember what had been tugging at the edges of her mind only seconds before. Micah's fingers slid past her layers of clothing with ease and she stiffened as he brushed the cool leather against her shaky inner thighs. 

"What are you even-," Mollie stopped short when he pulled the glove off his hand and returned it back beneath her dresscoat. 

Mollie gripped the edge of the wall beside her as her lashes fluttered and her jaw clenched. Her body shuddered as he dipped a long slender finger into her slit, the sensation melting into her body like ice against hot flesh. 

"S-Stop," she breathed tightening her thighs. 

She could have been mute for all he cared. Mollie believed his antics to be strictly lubricious in nature but the more he looked at her, with that raw unobscured passion, the more convinced she was that it teetered on the verge of the profound. 

Her nails dug into the thick wood surrounding the window as the tip of his finger moved to draw tight circles around her clit. The movements made it damn near impossible for Mollie to argue and she whimpered and tilted her head back as he increased the pressure. 

Mollie's body felt more tense than ever and she bit her lip when Micah shushed her, unaware that she had been making any noise at all. His free hand came up to settle tightly over mouth and she squirmed as he turned her face towards the window, away from him. 

Mollie felt as if this was somewhat of a retaliation after she had pushed him down against the hard ground several nights ago. Her head hit the carriage wall with a prominent _thunk_ and had she been free of his restraint...she would have gladly reciprocated the gesture. 

His gloved hand on her mouth tightened and she cried out against it as he bit her neck hard and inserted another long finger into her wet canal. He was whispering something into her ear, with that familiar dark husky murmur she had grown accustomed to. Her breathing was too loud and too muted beneath his palm and she could do nothing but writhe against him as he toyed with her cunt. 

"That's it," Micah said softly against her neck. His sounded as breathless as she did as he continued murmuring through her choked gasps. His fingers moved in and out of her drenched pulsating cunt and Mollie felt as if the buildup of pressure within her belly would rip her apart completely. "Almost there," he purred against her throat giving her clit a good twist as the words left his lips. "Let-Let it go Mollie Mae, _Donne m'en une bonne."_

Mollie had never felt this way before. The cold should have left her shivering with goosebumps spread across her sensitive skin. But instead, she felt beads of sweat begin to dot the edges of her hairline and she felt an incessant urge to rip apart the heavy material of her dresscoat. Her head hit the back of the cushioned seat hard and she moaned as her body squeezed tightly around his fingers. Her fingernails dragged down the wood on the wall and she slapped her other hand against his thigh, squeezing it as hard as her body did his fingers. Mollie felt Micah's breaths against her ear urging her forward, closer and closer and closer...until her back arched and she was left convulsing in pure utter bliss. His fingers were flooded as he praised her into the crook of her neck. She should feel utterly disgusted; repulsed by his audacious display of vulgarity. But the sensations that filled her were like nothing she had experienced before. 

Mollie was breathing heavily against his palm, the moisture of her breaths seeping up against her cheeks as she all but sobbed against it. She was waiting for him to release her from his hold and let them continue their travel together in silence. But Micah had other plans. 

Instead the grip on her mouth tightened and she tensed as his finger pressed her clit once more, the others returning to her slit to spread apart her lips for the second time that night.

"One more," he whispered. "Give me one more." 

Mollie didn't think she had it in her...didn't believe her body had the capacity to capitulate to such an outrageous demand. But she felt betrayed in more ways than one when her body erupted in another blazing hot wave that sent her body spasming rhythmically against the man beside her. Mollie felt as if had been wrung completely dry as her pussy clenched and unclenched against his slick deft fingers and she whined openly making him slap his palm even harder against her mouth to stifle her cries. 

It felt like a whole fifteen minutes went by before Mollie felt her breathing return to normal. She was slowly coming back to reality, the sparks within her body simmering to a low heat before they sizzled out completely. Micah was still beside her, holding her against him until she regained her bearings and was able to twist her head towards him. He let her and she all but collapsed against the pillows, her head too heavy for her to hold on her own. He had a smirk on his face, that crooked smile that was all too pleased. She gasped when he slid his fingers from within her. She groaned pitifully as he took extra time to slide his soaking fingers across her thighs and down over the curve of her knee. 

Mollie couldn't even form words as she watched him slide to the opposite side of the compartment once again. He was so elegant in his actions, as if he had simply crossed the compartment to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, not to stretch his wandering fingers deep into the caverns of her concealed folds. She tried to avoid looking at him, especially at his bare hand that lay damp and glistening against his knee.

"Why...Why would you-," Mollie croaked as she struggled to form a coherent sentence. 

Micah seemed distracted again, his eyes returning to the window. He didn't look at her as he spoke. 

"Go to sleep Mollie. The cold shouldn't be a problem anymore." 

The fatigue _was_ pulling at the edges of her vision and she all but snapped her mouth closed when she heard those words leave his lips. He was right. She _didn't_ feel the cold anymore. Instead she felt numb and immobilized with an uncomfortable dampness that seeped into her layers of clothing and left her sitting with nowhere to move in a puddle of her own cum. It was as if this pleasure was a punishment for her in some bizarre twisted way. 

Disturbed, uncomfortable and deeply agitated, she turned back towards the window and laid her head against the cool glass letting the warmth from her hips spread out towards the rest of her exhausted body as she tried to ignore the unpleasant wetness that spread along her thighs.

***

There was a loud screeching sound that echoed throughout the carriage and Mollie woke up with a start, her forehead hitting the cold glass with a sharp _pang _for what felt like the hundredth time.__

____

____

The prince was sharpening his blade, the screech of metal on metal echoing through the small interior yet seeming completely appropriate for the setting Mollie found herself in. 

Micah didn’t look at Mollie but she knew that he was aware of her, watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

The wind whistled again from outside giving the term bone-chilling a whole new meaning as Mollie tightened her coat around herself. The cold penetrated through everything, even with all the protection in the world, it still managed to seep its wintry grasp through all of those barriers to caress the warm dermal layer of skin making the blood run cold. She stretched herself out as best she could and felt heat flood her face as her sticky thighs pulled apart. She looked at Micah from beneath her lashes but he seemed pre-occupied. His eyes were fixed on his blade. The gems along the handle glimmered against the wintry ambiance and she quickly turned her gaze someplace else.

Mollie felt her throat run dry when she saw throngs of men standing outside what appeared to be an absolute fortress. Only the slits of their eyes could be seen amidst all the armour and clothing as they wore the Lyon Insignia proudly on their chests and stood still and attentive outside the walls leading up to the monstrous castle before them. The fortress was a blue-black in colour, composed of stone and steel and what Mollie guessed was some kind of insulating barrier in between the crevices of stone. It looked as cold as the white landscape that surrounded it and Mollie doubted it would be any warmer inside than it was out here. 

Mollie was surprised to see several carriages in front and behind them; all of them exact replicas of the one Micah and her were in now.

It was quiet, apart from the guards. There were no swarms of people, no flashing cameras, nothing to even suggest that there was a town that existed here. It was a drastic change from when the Lyons visited cities close to Mollie’s town. It was near impossible to even get a glimpse of the prince over all those people. Yet here she was now, in a royal carriage directly across from him. Those people back home knew nothing. They didn’t know the truth about this family, about what their hard earned money went towards. They were caught up in a swirling mixture of lies, greed, money and power. 

But the Insurgency did.

Mollie could feel her meal from the night before coming up just thinking about them and she felt a cold sweat run down her back despite the frigid temperature. 

Would they even believe her anymore? Did they see her as one of their own? 

She was under no false illusion of what Micah had portrayed her to be. In their eyes it appeared as if she were just another star crossed lover who had fallen for the prince. She bit her lip, unable to shake that feeling from her mind.

She felt like a puppeteer, her strings being pulled one way by the powerful grasp of the Lyons and the other by the desperate tugs of the Insurgency. But what she wanted, what she truly wanted was to free herself of those strings; cut herself loose and find her own path, one where she had autonomy over her decisions. One where she was free of those who reduced her to nothing less than the daughter of a street whore. 

Mollie watched as they passed under an archway of stone, hints of black seen beneath the thick duvet of white. The wind had died down slightly and Mollie could make out hazy figures standing along the stone barrier that surrounded them as the carriage rolled across the cobbled snow thickened road. 

The carriage rolled to a stop and Mollie looked up into two glowing orbs of green. Micah had leaned forward to link his hand in hers. His expression irked her. He didn’t well…look like anything really. Mollie tried to see through his blankness for something. Apprehension? Irritation? Uncertainty?

As Mollie stared back at him she felt that icy feeling come over her again...the feeling of being watched closely. That feeling of Micah studying her, dissecting each twitch of her lips, counting every blink of her eyes. She felt as if he was going to tell her something, warn or maybe? Or perhaps instruct her on how she should behave. 

Instead he squeezed her hand and leaned over to whisper into her ear.

“Welcome to the North Mollie Mae.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing...literally nothing happened this chapter. But answers will come I promise!


	28. Nickel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie gets a taste of the north and meets many new faces along the way. Questions get answered and Mollie grows ever more agitated at the significance of her role to the prince.

He fucked her the minute they entered his grand chambers. 

Mollie hadn’t even had the time to register her whereabouts nor take in the opulence of the room around them. 

Immediately following their departure from the carriage she was ushered through an underground tunnel that led deep into a dungeoned area of the fortress.

If she thought Questershire Manor was a maze, then this place was a goddamn labyrinth. 

The tunnels were lit with torches and the multiple rooms she passed were illuminated by candlelight. There was a chilly unfriendly haze that hung heavy over the walls that made Mollie feel as if she were in an abandoned penitentiary. 

The walls were not interiorly decorated like the manor -–rather--the same stone that made up the exterior of the wall was mirrored throughout its interior. In spite of the coldness, there was still something quite beautiful about _Château de Glace._ There were several open windows in the towers where ice had inched its way into the castle to spread out against the wall like a natural mural. There were places in the castle where there were no ceilings and a light layer of fluffy snow lay untouched and smooth against the floor, as if time had stilled in those parts of the fortress. 

Mollie had been caught off guard when Micah led her up a long flight of stairs to a tower with large ceiling to floor double doors. He had pulled her inside swiftly, the buckle of his belt clattering onto the grey icy floors. 

He was so swift and rehearsed, as if he had done it a million times – freeing himself of his cloak and quickly heading to the opposite end of the room to start a fire. 

Mollie had gasped when he flitted back to her side to lift her up against the dresser and pound himself repeatedly through her slick lower lips. Mollie groaned as he bit softly at her neck, his pale hand resting against the back wall to keep his balance as his cock pumped in and out of her. Mollie clutched desperately at his shirt as he exhaled sharply against her neck, his hips slamming against hers as he tightened within her.

He was rushed and frantic when he took her against the wall -- then the edge of the bed – then somehow onto a plush woollen rug on the floor. 

He didn’t give her a chance to breathe. It was as if the several days of travel had accumulated a certain level of pent up lust that he simply couldn't withhold any longer.

"Cum for me," he whispered giving a particularly hard thrust. Mollie gasped when he gave her thick hair a sharp pull from behind as he threaded his fingers in between her dark curls. He flattened her against the rug, his other hand kneading her shaped but slender thighs. 

Mollie felt locked down as Micah hovered over her in the cold room, her vision going in and out of focus while white hot debilitating pleasure ripped through her. She felt her pussy clamp down around him and her spine followed suit straightening as he guided her hips against him. With a sharp cry Mollie convulsed beneath him as she clawed at the floor, his load filling her as his breathing stuttered against her neck. 

Not even the crinkling fire could drown out their heavy breaths as Mollie slowly regained feeling in her legs and abdomen. Mollie felt absolutely spent, she almost didn't notice when Micah gripped her thighs tightly, his chin resting somewhere between her legs so he could watch her fluttering hole drip his white liquid down her thighs. 

She made a motion, to roll herself over but she felt Micah's hands tighten against her quivering flesh. 

"No," he murmured giving the inside of her thigh a soft nip. "Don't move. Keep your legs spread for me." 

"Micah," she groaned giving her escape another attempt. The sharp pinch of his fingers on her thighs made her yelp in pain and she realized with fear he was being serious. 

"I said don't move," he whipped out, his voice still breathless from their previous exertion. 

Mollie stilled immediately, trying her best to ignore the sensation of cold semen pooling at the apex of her thighs. 

She waited like that for some time, with her hair splayed out around her on the soft rug catching her breath as she turned her head into the thick fibres. 

"Micah?" she breathed inching her head upwards. 

She was nervous to move, unsure of whether she was permitted to do so. 

"What?" he responded breathlessly. 

His cheek was resting on her thigh, his loose dark curls tickling her stomach as his nose brushed her lower belly. 

He suddenly jerked upwards for a second as if realizing their sudden position and looked down at Mollie. 

"Are you cold?" 

The question threw her and she blinked up at him in surprise. She had forgotten about the cold at this point, and the dots of sweat that lined her forehead suggested her body had well acclimatized to the temperature at this point.

"Well...no," she mumbled, suddenly timid under his fierce gaze. "I...just...I'm...," she trailed off when her eyes caught a beautiful canvas on the wall. Her attention was immediately diverted and the strokes and lines of the sketch sparked a sharp recognition in her mind. "Did...did you draw that?"

Now it was Micah's turn to blink at her in surprise and he turned his head around to follow her gaze on the wall. 

"Yes," he said somewhat impatiently. "A long time ago." 

"Who is she? That woman?" she whispered. Relief flooded her as Micah pushed himself off of her. He ran his hand through his hair, the curls loose and tousled as they fell over his dark brow. 

"I don't remember," he replied, brushing her off and standing to his full height. 

Mollie bit her lip and carefully lifted herself to her knees. Her skin sunk into the plush wool. 

"Who's Phoebe?" 

Mollie jerked her head up and stared at him for a moment. 

Her knees were still wobbly and her head swam from the exertion he had put her through but she managed to keep herself relatively steady. 

"How-How... do you know about her?" 

Micah looked down at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

"You talk in your sleep."

Mollie felt her face flame and for some unknown reason this intrusive knowledge about her triggered her more than a lot of other things Micah had previously told her. 

"I do?" she asked baffled. This newfound knowledge made her slightly hyperaware of her surroundings and she averted her gaze, dread pooling in her stomach. "What did I say?"

Micah smirked. "Nothing you need to be overly concerned about. It's a rather... peculiar trait." 

Mollie frowned and pushed herself up to her feet. She wobbled slightly, a dull ache between her sticky thighs as she gripped the bedframe for balance. She gave the prince a withering look as she stood. Even if he noticed, he didn't react to it. 

Instead, he pulled out his pocketwatch to check the time and swiftly returned it to his waistcoat pocket. 

"Allow me to show you around the the rest of chambers Mollie." 

***

Mollie squirmed and protested the entire way as Micah ignored her feeble attempts to free herself from his grip, after he tossed her over his shoulder following her refusal. Only the looming threat of him fucking her well into the night quieted her enough to give up resisting him. 

Mollie felt as if they were venturing down, past the main floor of the castle towards a deeper level. It wasn’t a long trip, but something about the concealment of the room made Mollie shiver. 

The light was sparse here and she trembled as Micah gently pushed on a heavy door that emitted an eerie echoing creak. 

When Micah lowered her down she felt her hip meet a cold familiar porcelain edge. 

She watched as he fluidly lit several candles around the room so light was returned to the pitch black room.

The warmth from the candles offered little relief from the chilly air and she trembled as he let the water from the tub run.

There was a permeating silence in the air and when Mollie turned around she caught site of Micah staring at her, his eyes washing over the curves of her body in what little light was shed upon it.

His gaze was hungry…unsatiated. Mollie was worn out from their session only moments before and she couldn’t understand the unobscured lust that still remained in his eyes. 

“Look at you,” he murmured taking a step closer so his cool breath fanned her forehead. _“Éhontée.”*_

He stood in front of her in the dark room, covered by layers upon layers of clothing while she stood inches apart, in nothing but the thin necklace that lay delicately upon her collarbone.

His lips were parted, his eyes on her chest as he delicately traced a circular arch over her aching nipple. 

Mollie whimpered at the sharp pull, the cold making her body that much more sensitive to every prickle of sensation. She looked up at him stiffly, her frown deepening as his smile widened.

Gently he lifted her naked body up and settled her into the scorching tub filled with oils, scents and rose petals. Mollie expected her skin to burn at the contact with hot water but it was quite the opposite. She noticed that there were windows in the bathroom...floor length windows that made Mollie feel as if she were in a fishbowl. But when she looked outside; the only thing she could see were snow covered mountains in the distance and what appeared to be an endless expanse of white. 

“I won’t return till much later tonight,” Micah said tersely buttoning his cloak before slipping his gloves back on. 

Mollie said nothing as she sat in the bubbled bath water staring at the rose tinted water around her.

“You won’t be alone. I’ve asked Cécily to see to your every need from now on. She’ll be more than happy to assist you.”

Mollie snapped her head up at this and watched as Micah combed his fingers through his hair and adjusted his belt. 

“What?” She said baffled stirring in the water. “I don’t need that,” Mollie argued glaring at the prince. “I’ll be just fine on my own. There’s nowhere for me to even go,” she said miserably stealing a glance at the window. 

_“Dieu merci,”*_ Micah muttered, adjusting his collar. 

She was pouting, like a child who’s parents refused them candy at the circus. The loneliness she felt at the manor was nowhere near what she was feeling now. At least she was able to venture outside, knew a familiar face or two in the manor. But here...any chance of escape was a death sentence and she knew absolutely no one here but Micah. At least she even had Esperanza before...but here. She was truly alone. 

Cold leather fingers closed around her chin and Mollie jerked in surprise to see Micah standing right above her.

He curled his hand around her face and stared down at her, his expression stoic as she sunk down lower in the tub.

“You’ll like her,” he said softly rubbing his thumb in soft circles against her cheek. “You’ll need her to guide you around, take care of certain things around the _château._ She’ll be your lady in waiting— _votre soubrette.”_

Mollie was quiet as she listened to him speak. She wasn’t keen on having a “lady in waiting” in the first place. Did he forget that she was not a quaternary citizen? She’d never have had one, certainly not in this lifetime, not in the caste she was born into.

“I don’t need one.” She said firmly looking up at the prince fiercely. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yes,” he said coldly, the grip on her jaw tightening. "Yes you do." She winced as he leaned down so they were eye level to eye level. 

“This isn’t Questershire Mollie,” he said monotonously, his eyes narrowing slightly. “This fortress is big--bigger than the manor and many of the rooms have been turned into training rooms for soldiers, and meeting rooms for negotiations. It is not a home.”

Mollie kept silent as he continued speaking in his strict and formal tone usually reserved for his business associates. 

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he said quietly taking a string of Mollie’s wet curls and twirling it around his finger. “I like that about you. But precautions must be taken. Especially when it comes to you.” 

Mollie remained sullen as he pressed his lips softly against hers before straightening up.

“Where will you be gone for so long?” She asked quietly placing her chin on her wet knees. 

Micah ignored her as he walked towards the door.

“Don’t forget to sift the fire when you’re finished,” he said softly. “It gets even colder when night falls.” He made a motion to move but retracted slightly as if he remembered something. “And do be vigilant on your way up the stairs, it gets icy at the top.” 

With that he closed the door with a sharp click behind him. 

Mollie sighed and swallowed her simmering anger as she sunk down into the hot water. She sunk until her bottom hit the hard flooring of the tub and the water rose to just above her chin. There was an eerie silence throughout the fortress that put Mollie’s hair on end. 

As she sunk beneath the water she tried her best to isolate her mind from her body and float somewhere beyond these walls. She imagined she were back in Riverton, submerged in the sweet river that flowed through the dense green foliage just behind her grandparents quaint cottage. 

She could picture it so vividly – the current whipping her hair backwards, the scent of clean honey tinged air mingling on the forest edge --the warm summer breeze…the feel of the sun on her back. She remembered her grandparents faces, their skin weathered from years spent in the sunny countryside. She could hear them calling her name as if they were only just beyond the sunflower field behind the cottage. She remembered that song they used to sing to her when she was just a little girl -- the haunting tune that still lingered in the back of her mind. 

Her mother forbid her from ever singing it after her grandparents passed and they were forced to migrate to Chartery. But the words were still as fresh in her mind as the day she first heard it. Mollie remembered that long walk from the green fields of Riverton to the grey cobbled roads of Chartery as if it were yesterday. She had cried the entire way. 

She had never cried so much in her life. 

She hummed the tune as she slipped her head beneath the fresh scented water, letting her hair expand around her as the soft swoosh of water filled her ears. 

_Will you come back with me back to the king?_

_Past mountains and fields past the forest of bane?_

_Shall I wait for the cross or the cry of a gull_

_Do I follow the path or the winds of the south?_

_These seasons they change not a moment too soon_

_If we meet at the brink of the last golden rain_

_Will you come back with me back to the queen?_

_Past penultimate storms and the prairies of grain?_

_Are they white are they black are they shades of blue-green?_

_Or are somethings concealed, unseen to be seen?_

_These seasons they change not a moment too soon_

_If we meet at the brink of the last golden rain_

_Will you come back with me back to the prince?_

_Over bridges of tears and the river of Morte_

_Will the dead let us come will they walk by our side?_

_Sliding arm through the arm as a groom to his bride_

_These seasons they change not a moment too soon_

_If we meet at the brink of the last golden rain_

_Will the king seek our foes will he be our white knight?_

_Can we set it in stone, like Arthur to his blade?_

_The sailors, the abbot, the squire they know_

_Their fates no different from Shalott’s sinful glow_

_These seasons they change not a moment too soon_

_If we meet at the brink of the last golden rain_

*** 

Mollie spluttered as her head emerged from the water and she gripped the edges of the tub in fear. The water splashed over the edge of the tub and hit the floor with a loud splatter that echoed through the chilly bathroom. The temperature of the water had dropped to the point that the liquid had gone ice cold. Mollie shivered in the freezing water and choked fresh air into her lungs. The candles had long since burned out and the wax had left stringy fingers of hazy white snakes dripping down the edges of the walls. She was in complete darkness and she turned in fear to the right towards the windows. The sky was black and scattered with clouds, obscuring any possibility of seeing any stars in the night sky. The snow on the ground had thickened and risen quite high along the window and Mollie couldn’t help but feel a cold sweat begin to start down her back. 

Mollie must have fallen asleep in the tub and she wondered how long she had been out. It must have been longer than she had originally thought. The smell of wax was overwhelming in the room and she carefully pulled herself up from the tub. She cringed as her thick wet hair splat loudly against her back and sent water spattering down onto the cold tiled floor. She inched her arms out for a towel and reached blindly in front of her. 

When her hands met the dry material she hastily wrapped the soft fabric around her damp body and climbed clumsily over the slippery white surface. Before she could take a single step forward she heard the clear undeniable sound of knuckles against glass. 

Mollie froze.

Her back was to the window and her front was only inches away from the slightly ajar bathroom door. Her throat constricted and her legs shook as a million goosebumps erupted across her skin. She pulled the towel tight around her body and whipped around to face the window grabbing the edge of the tub for balance. Her eyes scanned the open snow desert, in search for the eyes she had felt watching her only seconds ago.

She saw nothing but black skies amidst a white landscape. Silently, she let out the shaky breath that had caught in her throat. She exhaled slowly and ran her fingers through the knots in her damp hair. 

She was being silly. Unnecessarily paranoid. It was understandable.

She was in foreign territory, a different way of life completely. This response was natural. She took another deep breath before tightening her towel and using the walls to inch her way toward the door. 

It was the flash -- the shadow that had alerted her this time and Mollie knew for sure she had not imagined it.

She felt her blood run cold as whatever was behind her cast a shadow against her back, obscuring the white reflection that danced on the walls of the bathroom. Mollie was wide eyed and still as the shadow eventually moved forward across the room before disappearing completely. Mollie counted to one hundred twice before she felt comfortable enough to turn around.

When she did she felt as if she were going to be sick. Outside the glass windows etched deep into the untouched snow were the unmistakable prints of large footprints that led straight towards the window. Mollie hadn’t checked the ground until now and she felt faint. How had she missed those before? What if this person had been watching her while she slept? What if they had been there the whole time?

She didn’t want to fathom it. 

As quickly as she could she threw herself towards the door and flew up the slippery flight of stairs, heedless to the sting of her barefeet against the chilled stone. She slid herself into the master bedroom and slammed the door behind her. The cold assaulted her skin and she buckled as the sharp drop in temperature knocked her dripping legs together. She swore as she made her way towards the fireplace, ignoring the fact that she was dripping water everywhere on the floor. Micah had warned her to start a fire before nightfall and now she understood why. Mollie was shaking as she searched the ledge above the fireplace for a match and attempted to light a flame. 

She could feel her breaths rushing past her lips and she fumbled with the match clumsily between her fingers before they fell to the ground with a clatter. Before she could bend down to pick them up another shadow hovered in the doorway casting an unnatural yellow light into the dark room. The figure headed straight for Mollie and she couldn’t help but scream when she saw it approaching. 

The figure stopped abruptly and Mollie’s fear dissipated slightly when she heard a soft feminine voice coming from it. 

“Hush now. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

Mollie had hit the ground hard when she stumbled backwards and she clutched the towel to her chest as she stared in shock at the figure in front of her. Quickly it came closer bringing the torchlight down towards the girl and she was surprised to see a young woman with wide blue eyes staring back at her. The woman had a thick accent but she had kind features that put Mollie at ease. 

She looked to be in her early thirties with simple features and light mousy brown hair tied back into a neat simple bun. 

“Don’t be afraid _Mademoiselle_ Mollie,” she said gently bending down towards the girl. “My name is Cécily. Cécily Lemieux. I’ll be your lady in waiting for the time being.”

Mollie placed a hand to her forehead and groaned. She hadn’t even been here for a full day and she already felt unhinged.

“I thought…I thought I saw someone outside the window in the bathroom,” she said softly, her eyes flickering to the large double doors behind the woman.

Cécily furrowed her brow as she helped Mollie to her feet. 

“The floor length windows can be daunting _Mademoiselle._ But they’re an important part of _Château de Glace._ What little sunlight creeps through the clouds during the day time helps maintain a warmer temperature in certain rooms of the _château_ – particularly the back rooms that aren’t as exposed to daylight. The heating system here is poor. That is why we must be diligent and aware of how we establish room temperature in these parts.”

Mollie watched the woman quietly as she laid out a warm long sleeved dress for Mollie to wear and started a warm fire in the room. Although Cécily tried to placate her, Mollie was still shaken from what she had just witnessed.

“I saw footprints,” she croaked. “There were footprints at the window...”

Cécily dropped her gaze and gently walked over towards the door that led down the staircase to the massive bathroom. She moved gracefully for a maid and Mollie was slightly envious of that. Grace and dexterity seemed to come so easily to these monarchical subjects. 

Mollie quickly dropped her towel and slipped into the dress that was laid out for her. She bunched her damp hair into a simple plait and quickly padded down the staircase behind Cécily.

Already Cécily had relit several of the candles surrounding the tub giving the room a soft warm glow.

Mollie frowned at the spot outside the floor length window where the footprints had been before. Of course it was snowing-- but it seemed as if the snow had piled high on the previously traversed ground eliminating any evidence that someone had been there. 

“They were there,” she said angrily stepping closer to the window and gesturing to the spot where she had seen them. “I know what I saw.”

 _Didn't she?_

Cécily was quiet as she observed Mollie. She didn’t appear annoyed, and even if she was she didn’t show it. She seemed almost…solemn. 

“I’m not denying what you saw _Mademoiselle,”_ she said carefully, choosing her words wisely. “The snow plays tricks on your mind, especially this far up North. I find it unlikely a person would be walking…outside…at this part of the castle. It would be very odd. You may have just mistaken the light striking the snow reflecting back to the sky. It does that sometimes, especially with a fresh snowfall. The prince did not make any announcement that he would be arriving today. We weren’t expecting him for another month or so. Maybe the travel has given you anxiety.”

Mollie sighed and placed a hand against her head. 

_But the footsteps?_

Was she losing her mind already? If this was happening to her on her first day in _Icedalar_ Mollie would be a goner pretty quickly. She had to get herself together. 

“You’re right,” she said wanly straightening up. “You’re right…it…it must be the travel.”

She smiled weakly at the woman who swiftly led her out of the bathroom and back towards her large quarters. 

Mollie perched lightly against the huge bed as Cécily sauntered around the room, closing the curtains, dusting the tabletops, and lighting the various candelabrums scattered around the room. 

Mollie paused when she approached her and jerked as the woman placed a soft hand against her forehead. She moved at an impressive speed, from one place to another. 

“You’re a little warm, _un peu trop chaud,”_ she added to herself scrambling to grab a cloth from another adjoining room. 

There was something youthful and genuine about Cécily that Mollie didn’t see with Esperanza. The old woman from the manor was too careful, too aware of who was around her and a bit too loyal for her own good. 

Mollie wondered whether Cécily was as willing to lay her head along a platter for the Lyons as the old woman in Questershire was. She’d have to find out.

Cécily returned promptly and placed a chilled mint tea atop the small bedside table next to the enormous bed. 

“This will help lower your temperature,” she said assuredly giving Mollie a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

Before she could turn to leave Mollie called out to her.

“Wait…um…thank you,” she said hesitantly unsure of how to address the woman.

Cécily laughed as she turned to look at Mollie.

“You do not have to thank me _Mademoiselle_ Mollie,” she said. “It is my job to see to you.”

Mollie bit her lip as the woman bent towards the fireplace to sift the fire and bring more warmth into the room. 

The candles aided somewhat but it was still chilly, even though Mollie had a thick padded dress on.

“You work for the Lyons?” Mollie asked, hoping to start a conversation.

 _“Oui,”_ said the woman cheerfully sifting through the wood as it crinkled. _“Depuis longtemps.”_

“You seem happy,” Mollie noted watching Cécily’s expression carefully. “They treat you well?”

Cécily turned to look at Mollie this time and Mollie saw her lip tighten ever so faintly.

 _“Je suis content,”_ she said crisply rising to her feet. “I know the prince well. I trust him.”

Mollie blinked in surprise at the honest answer. She was expecting the woman to evade it in some way…to be as elusory as Esperanza. 

“You…you know Micah well?” she repeated blankly.

“Of course,” she said gesturing for Mollie to finish her tea. “He is the one who promoted me after all. I used to work the stables. Constantly on my hands and knees, scrubbing floors, cleaning excrement. Not a pleasant job. _Pas pour une femme comme moi.”_

“And your family?” Mollie probed suddenly interested.

Cécily laughed again as she turned towards Mollie.

“Master Lyon told me you were a curious one,” she said with a knowing smile. “Perhaps he was being a bit too modest.”

Mollie blushed and dropped her gaze for a moment.

“Do not be ashamed,” Cécily said with a hint of a smile. “It is not a bad quality, just a dangerous one. You must learn to keep it subdued.”

Mollie shifted uncomfortably as the woman came again to drop a soft fur blanket across her shoulders. She doubted that was something she’d ever be able to do.

“What else did he say about me?” Mollie asked quietly glancing up towards Cécily. 

It was the first time the woman had paused before answering a question and Mollie saw her features contort slightly as she busied herself with the ornaments on the bedside table.

“He said you were from the country,” she said suddenly her movements halting for a brief second. “It is something us two have in common.”

Mollie watched as she pulled the curtains closed tightly and headed for the bedroom door. 

“Is that all?” she murmured so faintly she wasn’t sure Cécily had heard her.

Cécily paused, the torches from the hallway casting a warm halo behind her. 

“He’s never brought a woman to _Icedalar_ before,” she said quietly with a soft chuckle. “I suppose this is as much new territory for me as it is for you.”

Her comment confused Mollie more than it should have. Perhaps she hadn’t been over-imagining the stares, the whispers, and the distasteful glances she had been the victim of since the start of the trip. Everyone was curious of her, and this drew attention…unwanted attention that would only make life more difficult for Mollie. 

_“Dormier bien Mademoiselle,”_ Cécily said quietly inching the door open. “I will be here tomorrow morning to assist you.”

Mollie waited until Cécily exited the room and her footsteps faded into silence before she ripped the blankets from her body and went straight for the small bag she had carried with her from Questershire manor. She sifted through the few items she had before she grabbed the soft freshly laundered yellow cloak and draped it snugly around her skinny body. 

This had belonged to Izabel Lyon at some point and Mollie felt stronger whenever she was wearing it. The young Lyon wasn’t given justice for her death and Mollie felt as if her loneliness paralleled that of her own. Her heart ached for the young Belle who at one point would spend her days locked in her room carving out surnames of suitors her father would arrange for her to meet. She had also been told that Izabel had been strong, preferring to go on precarious trips with her brothers--wanting to be more than what her status of a woman had reduced her to. Mollie needed that strength now and she flipped the hood up over her head as she slipped her feet into her soft boots and laced them up tightly. 

As swiftly as she could she slipped past the thick double doors of the luxurious bedroom and into the dark chilly halls of the notorious winter fortress.

***

Mollie tightened her cloak as she descended a third flight of stairs. She had nearly run headlong into three guards pacing at the end of the flight of stairs leading to her room. She dreaded having to return later…her return may prove to be more cumbersome than her escape. 

She could still feel the icy cold stone through her boots and she breathed into her hands in a desperate attempt to warm her numb fingers.

She had heard a sliver of voices echoing down a hallway before but the ice that covered the ground was too daunting for Mollie to traverse. The last thing she needed was a fall that left her unable to move. 

Instead Mollie followed the torches and candelabrums that were set up along the hallways. Some of them had been recently used and she navigated her way through the cold tunnels from wall to wall, inching her way closer to the voices she had heard lingering above and below her. 

Mollie gulped as she passed an empty barren room covered in a thick layer of snow. It was bare except for a rope hanging in the middle of the room, a single loop on the end. She hurried her pace and felt along the walls until she heard a sharp gruff tone from around the corner. This corridor was significantly warmer than the others and Mollie could physically feel the temperature transition as she creeped along the hall, the air becoming more heated the closer she got. She paused and flattened herself against the wall as she listened to these guards. 

“You have a cigar?” 

They appeared to be pacing up and down and Mollie held her breath as the clinking of their boots against the floor rattled sharp in her ears. 

“Nope,” the other one replied popping the p at the end of the word. “But I could use one too, it’s fucking cold.”

“Mmm,” the other murmured. “One of them French cigars, nothing quite like them. They really are the best.”

The other scoffed and Mollie heard the pacing had come to a stop. 

“How long do you think this event will last? I mean we ain’t supposed to be on duty and we ain’t being paid anymore to be here. I have a wife and eight children to feed. Christ.”

“Well who asked you to make her pop out so many?” the other one said annoyedly. 

“That ain’t the point,” came a heated reply. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on babysitting duty? We don’t need two guards to keep watch of a room where there are already guards inside. I mean none of this even makes sense.”

The other groaned and Mollie heard slight shuffling before the conversation continued.

“I ain’t watching that _salope_. Plus she locked in a tower now. She ain’t a threat.”

Mollie stiffened.

“We were given strict orders to watch it,” the other said, significantly more sternly than before.

“Drop it. She’s just a little girl. Little girls don’t know nothing. Believe me I know. I have six daughters. The only threat she poses is crying her eyes out and fussing when the bathwater ain’t hot enough.”

The other paused before he answered.

“Sounds more like your wife is the problem, not your daughter.”

The bickering continued for some time and Mollie figured she’d try to find another way into the room. She had no doubt Micah’s trip here was just a stopping point before he continued to Ophian Land. He was short with her before, showing clear disinterest in discussing business and negotiations. At least with her.

She had heard what went on at the meeting a couple nights ago. Micah was due to negotiate with the Ophians and Mollie found herself growing more interested in iridium and its significance. Sure it was powerful…but she felt as if there was something more to it, something that made people so desperate they were willing to sacrifice their kingdoms for it. The Lyons and the Ophians had a bloody history. Something that went beyond utter distaste and poor negotiation. It was personal, this much she had deduced. 

Mollie stepped closer and froze when her cloak hit the back of the candelabra. The candle holder hit the wall with a soft screech and she felt her throat swell up. 

The chatter stopped abruptly and she braced herself against the wall swearing herself at her foolishness. 

“Did you hear that?”

The men had gone quiet and Mollie clutched her cloak tightly around her and slithered along the wall as silently as she could. 

She could hear the footsteps approaching fast and she quickly scampered behind a jagged edge of the _château_ wall and crouched. Her cloak swept the floor and she was thankful the yellow colour of her cloak danced off the wall like candlelight against the snow. 

The guards were bickering again, only steps away from where she had been and she prayed...prayed they didn’t turn around and see her around the corner. 

“Gentleman.”

A deep baritone voice echoed across the hall that sent Mollie’s stomach plummeting to the ground. It was deep and authoritative and painstakingly familiar. 

Mollie heard the guards sink low to the ground. 

_He was here. Why was he here?_

He moved silently, like a snake creeping on its next meal and she heard the shuffle of the guards as they let Hartley pass through the large double doors of the hallway. 

Mollie had splayed herself against the far wall, concealing herself as much as possible. She winced when she crouched, the space in between her thighs still tender as her heart pounded in her chest. It was the closest she had ever been to him and her adrenaline had spiked almost immediately. It was an innate reaction, something that dated back to the early days of civilization. An unprecedented increase in blood pressure when danger was fast approaching. 

Mollie exhaled slowly and slid farther and father in the opposite direction of the guards. 

Perhaps she could go around…around where if she was lucky, there was a chance of there being less guards…

“Going somewhere _fillette?”_

Mollie turned blindly and grabbed the nearest crevice in the stony wall to keep her balance.

She’d seen him before. This man – back in Questershire Manor. He was part of Micah’s cabinet…a high ranked elite member of the monarchy.

His expression was stony, hard and utterly displeased. Now that Mollie was only a few metres ahead of him she could see the distorted indented scar that ran from his hairline all the way to his lip. His voice was ragged and harsh. As if it had grown accustomed to being used so forcefully the vocal cords were permanently damaged. 

Mollie had last seen him in the dungeons with Micah. He hadn’t even batted an eyelid as the prisoners throats were slit one after another. 

Mollie hesitated and faltered as she took several steps backwards. The guard was huge, blocking out any possibility of an exit that lay just on the other side of him. 

“Little birdies shouldn’t come out of their nest if they don’t know how to fly first little girl.”

The raspiness of his tone made his threat seem even more ominous and Mollie felt her palms begin to sweat.

He began to take casuals steps forward, each one bringing him that much closer to Mollie. His eyes wandered angrily over her cloak and she pulled the clothing tighter around her shoulders.

“Where did you get that? That belonged to…” 

His voice tightened in an unmistakable manner. Something in the way his brown eyes flashed made Mollie even more nervous. 

“If you hurt me….Master Lyon won’t be pleased,” she squeaked pressing herself against the backwall. 

The man tilted his head to the side for a moment, as if he were weighing his options carefully.

“I don’t hurt meek wandering concubines.” 

Mollie’s cheeks blazed at the term but at the back of her mind she knew there was some truth to it. She often forgot how her affiliation with Micah seemed from an outside perspective. Sure he told her that she wasn’t his slave, but to everyone else, it really did seem that way. Furthermore, Micah knew how much it upset her to be called one. It hit a little too close to home. 

His lips pursed for a moment in a cunning smile that made Mollie’s heart jump to her throat. 

“Though if I did turn you in…I’m quite sure Master Lyon would be _equally_ displeased.”

Mollie frowned and shot the guard a look of overt dislike. Something in the back of her mind told her that the guard couldn’t hurt her even if he wanted to. His intimidation was good, but she had leverage over him in this situation. Whether he liked it or not. Her eyes flickered to the crest on his chest where she saw several high ranking badges as well as a clear distinguishable name tag just slightly below the Lyon insignia.

_Gibbs._

When she spoke, she made sure to add a hint of a challenge in her tone.

“I’m sure his displeasure would be nothing compared to him knowing I escaped even _with_ the guards right outside my door.”

The guard named Gibbs narrowed his eyes, his expression immediately turning dangerous. 

“Are you threatening an elite _Garde Imperiale_ member?”

Mollie hesitated, her eyes zeroing in on the way the man flexed his knuckles. 

His lips curled making his scar appear even more threatening.

"You really think you're something special don't you?" 

Mollie swallowed and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. 

They stood like that for some time, the grown man towering over her frail figure from across the hall, the heat of their breaths meeting somewhere in the centre of the chilly dark corridor. 

_If looks could kill… ___

Maybe it was him…maybe he had been the one spying on her earlier.

“But you don't understand,” he said quietly after some time elapsed. The scar on his face moved with every slight facial expression and Mollie found it hard to focus on anything else but the angry pink indentation. He sounded...put out --his threatening aura dropping momentarily.

“Understand what?” she asked.

The guards tone had gone less hostile, but his expression remained strict and severe. 

“I could show you,” he said in a muted tone. He seemed to be thinking very carefully about something, looking Mollie up and down as he came to a decision. “Make this worth your while.” 

Mollie was mistrustful. The man was scary, no doubt about that…. but Mollie was not a regular slave. This much was obvious enough. Her treatment was vastly different from the first time she had met the prince several months ago. The necklace Micah had put around her throat seemed much heavier against her skin now and she could feel the sharp ridges of the cold metal dig into the space between her collarbones. The only other option she had was to return to her chambers in the tower and for Mollie…this was not an option.

“Make it worth my while?” Mollie said slowly taking a step back. “You’d help me?” she asked baffled. 

“I said I’d help you understand,” Gibbs clarified with a frown. “You seem like a smart girl. Street smart maybe…but a little… enlightenment wouldn’t hurt. I’m sure you miss your home. ”

Mollie exhaled slowly and wiped her sweaty palms on the inside of her cloak. She took her time considering what he had to offer. Even such a fleeting mention of home made her insides clench painfully.

_What if it’s a trap? Could she trust him?_

“What exactly are you going to help me understand?” 

Before Mollie could argue any further, he had turned around and began walking in the opposite direction.

“Follow me.” 

Mollie didn’t have too much time to weigh her options and despite her rational mind telling her to return to her room obediently – she went with her gut.

***

They had been circling the perimeter of the fortress for half an hour already and Mollie was agitated. 

Previously, Mollie didn’t really believe _Icedalar_ could get any colder than it already did during the day…but as she trudged through the thick wet snow that gripped at her poorly covered legs she realized just how wrong she was.

“Through here,” Gibbs said roughly brushing a thick blanket of snow from a stone archway leading into a damp dark tunnel. 

Mollie tensed immediately. The hall resembled a dungeon and not a single torch or candelabra was visible down the corridor. 

The guard sensed her hesitation and gave her a hard but firm push on the back closer to the entrance.

“We don’t have much time,” he said tersely. He ushered her inside quickly and led her along the hallway until they reached a sharp curve in the wall.

Mollie gasped in pain as her arm snagged a jagged edge of rock but continued forward nonetheless.

The dread that had accumulated in her stomach began to lessen when the sounds of clinking glasses and soft voices began filtering through the walls.

“What is this?” Mollie whispered as the man pulled her forward. “Where are we?”

“Smugglers tunnel,” he responded. “Every fortress has one.”

As Mollie followed the guard around several twists and turns she was shocked to see a thin sheen of ice blocking the entrance to a vast and snowy courtyard. The space was massive and allowed a stunningly clear view of the room across from where she stood. So far, Mollie had seen a rather dreary side to the castle apart from her lavish bedroom quarters. But the sight that was before her was truly spectacular. 

The nature of the room itself put even the opulent Questershire Manor Ballroom to shame. The natural ice sheens that had formed over many years created pillars of glaciers on the outside of the room and gave the illusion as if the room itself were made of cyan blue glass. The floor was a rich blue, the colour of aged ice and spread from one side of the fancy hall to the other. The windows were floor length like the ones in the bathrooms on the main floor of the fortress. The glass was thin, allowing for a clear view into the interior. There weren’t many people present but there was no doubt a meeting that was taking place. 

There was a long table spread from one side of the room to another with three men and two women occupying seats on both sides. A single chandelier hung in the centre of the room with three gigantic layers of sharp sculpted icicles. The room was surrounded by lit qulliqs casting a warm orange glow around the room in spite of the frigid temperatures that surrounded them. 

Mollie barely had time to really take in the beauty of this part of the fortress, her eyes were scanning the room for one person only.

When she saw him she felt her lips go numb.

Micah was there, his rich navy cloak spread out behind him as he spoke with a man dressed in thick furs. His right gloved hand was stiff and resting elegantly against his hip. The other was slipped in between the arm of another. His thick dark hair was carefully combed to the side to display his sharp handsome features. Even from this distance Mollie could see how much he radiated elegance. When her eyes flickered to the woman standing beside him she felt her blood run cold. 

Mollie recognized that ice blonde hair. 

Tamzin Menestratten. 

The girl had been oddly threatened by Mollie, which had been the first and last time they had encountered each other. The girl was undoubtedly beautiful, her icy locks carefully pinned up into delicate ringlets. They contrasted starkly with her blood red lips which were curved into a smug rehearsed smile. 

Mollie felt her blood prickle as she watched them together. Micah had a smile plastered on his face, his dimples deep and his grip on the arm of the woman firm. But that smile didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, his posture was so painfully stiff it was hard to spot the constant rise and fall of his chest. The girl on the other hand had an award winning smile…not entirely different from a cat that had caught the canary. Mollie figured she knew nothing about the man beside her. 

Micah was enchanting in the most profound way. His grace, his smile, his boyish charm…it was all an act, something he wore to fit the persona of a privileged wealthy prince. It was a mask he wore to hide the damaged, imprisoned boy that lay under all those layers of expensive silks. Tamzin believed she was betrothed to a prince. Little did she know what exactly lay in store for her once she signed her life over to him. 

Micah smiled politely at the man speaking to them. He placed his hand gently on the back of his fiancée, playing the part of the perfect gentleman. Tamzin fit the role of a princess well with her delicate long sleeved periwinkle gown. She seemed besotted with the man beside her. 

“Master Lyon…Prince Micah is already making things difficult for this kingdom. He doesn’t want to be king.”

Mollie looked sharply at the guard whose eyes had finally lingered to rest on the scene before them.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s quite obvious,” said the guard. “His lack of participation in the courts, his refusal to attend his own promotion -- his coronation delay. It adds up and it does not go unnoticed.”

Mollie listened but there was still something that she did not understand.

“What makes you think he’d be a good king?”

The guard looked at Mollie closely as he answered.

“I’ve been here a long time. Seen my fair share of good leaders and…not so good leaders. A lot of people think leadership is a cocktail of these superior qualities -- loyalty, charisma, persuasion. But it’s much simpler than that really. A good leader is someone who is willing to separate their emotions from their tasks. A good leader knows not to mix emotion into their work. A good leader knows how to _compartmentalize.”_

The guard gave Mollie a knowing look, his side profile shrouding the scar that ran along the lefthand side of his face. Mollie hadn't realized how much the scar took away from his features. Without it, Mollie figured he must have been quite an attractive man at some point. Whoever gave him that scar made sure it would stay there etched into his skin for the rest of his life.

“You’ve gained yourself a bit of reputation these days…,” he trailed off for a moment his eyes flickering back to the hall across from them. “I just want you to know that you are a distraction to the prince. Master Lyon’s future is neatly laid out for him and no matter what he tells you or how many promises he pledges to keep, he cannot—he will not abide by them. His position simply does not allow it.”

Mollie bit her lip as she listened. Micah had made it abundantly clear to her how much he despised the role he had been born into…how he craved to escape from the duties he was obligated to complete. But it was these people, those who only saw that single part of him that refused to acknowledge that there may be more to him than meets the eye.

“The prince doesn’t want to be king,” she said flatly turning toward the guard. “It doesn’t matter how great of a king you believe him to be. Nothing you say will change that.”

“It’s not his decision to make,” the guard said between clenched teeth. “Sir Hartley always favoured that boy, even trained him differently than his brothers. It was always his responsibility irregardless of his attitude towards it. And the boy will not disobey his father. He knows better than that.”

“Why?” Mollie challenged looking the guard sternly in the eye. “Micah is the youngest Lyon son, he should be third in line to takeover, following his two older brothers. Succession to the throne is determined by birth order and gender.”

The guard laughed humourlessly. “If the Lyons always followed the rules they wouldn’t be half of what they are today.”

Mollie harboured her suspicions about Micah from the start—from his birth to his hometown to his rather controversial role of chief executive officer of the Lyon Empire. 

“You see?”

Mollie jerked as the guard moved closer to her. She hadn’t realized that his eyes had been on her the entire time as she watched the man who had enslaved her flaunt another leading lady on his arm.

“This...this is what is meant to be _fillette."_

Mollie watched the prince and his bride- to- be together for an immeasurable amount of time. She watched as they mingled with elite diplomats from other cities, clinking glasses, laughing lightly. Her fingers and toes were numb to the point of unfeeling and her ears were ringing from the cold wind. Her chest was tight from the cold air and yet she felt a horrible void of emptiness in fill her. 

Gibbs' rough voice pierced the air again snapping Mollie back to reality.

“Master Lyon’s coronation will happen soon enough and afterwards he can officially take over the duties his father has laid out for him and rule the North as king. That is the way things will be.”

The man seemed confident in his words, as if he were repeating them to himself to further their validation. Mollie didn’t really know what she was expecting to see. Regardless, whatever this guard had showed her was nothing she didn’t already know. But the humiliation of having to see it with her own eyes was debilitating in the worst possible way. It made her feel inferior, worthless -- of little value. It made her feel as if she really _were_ Micah’s distraction. Something he could dump his problems on when things got too tough to handle…. a person whose legs he could spread when he craved a warmth no blanket or fur coat could offer in these harsh lands. 

“If what you said were true,” she murmured, hating how thick her voice sounded. “Then why won’t he let me go?” 

Mollie heard the guard inhale slowly.

“Lust is the strongest adjunct of temptation. Prince Micah is aware of this and he will overcome it, just as he has overcome many adversities throughout his life. He is the king we all need. It is just a matter of pushing him there.”

“You seem so sure,” Mollie whispered, the wind taking most of her voice away with it. 

“I want what’s best for my kingdom -- and that warrants electing a good leader. I do hope you understand _fillette._ It would benefit us both. With Micah as king, we normal folk get to live our lives contentedly…and you…you get your freedom.”

Mollie wasn't aware of Micah's public status with the people but based on what she was now hearing it sounded as if he were slowly rising in popularity. 

“You’d rather have him as King,” Mollie said suddenly understanding the guards perspective. “That’s your goal isn’t it? You’d be willing to do anything to ensure the Northern kingdom doesn't fall victim to James Lyon.”

Gibbs stiffened before he spoke. 

“Micah is CEO but he is not yet king. That would only happen once Micah completes his coronation and that would be…following his marriage.”

Now Mollie was the one to stiffen. 

Things were beginning to fall into place…and things that didn’t make much sense before began to slowly clarify. Micah had told her this before…that day they had walked together on the grounds. He had told her so blatantly what the rules were. 

_“From the day we were born, my brothers and I, all being potential heirs to govern the monarchy, were overseen, monitored, and shadowed everyday of our lives. When we come of age…these rules become less stringent. There is more flexibility between what we can and cannot do.”_

“It’s still his choice,” Mollie realized. The wind had picked up but she no longer felt the bone-chilling temperature seeping into her skin. “Hartley may have favoured him…maybe even handpicked him as a successor…but with James and Rowan still alive and fit to rule… Micah still has the ability retain some morsel of his autonomy. That’s why he could delay this coronation for as long as he wanted to…unless…”

Mollie went through scenario over scenario in her head. God she had been so _blind_ before. Micah must have been planning this since Hartley had made him CEO. He wasn’t only delaying because he didn’t want to be king…he was delaying to buy himself _time._ But time for what? To escape? Time to retaliate against his father? 

Mollie had a feeling Micah had no intention of becoming king…ever. Did it have something to do with her? Was that why he had brought Mollie along in the first place? 

“What about Rowan?” she questioned. “Why can’t he be King?”

“That _homosexuel!?”_ The guard spat on the ground in disgust and Mollie cringed. _“Une telle comme ça est blasphématoire.”*_

The conversation Rowan exchanged with Micah before they had departed for the North suddenly resurfaced in her mind. Rowan had seemed… uncharacteristically agitated. As if something had not gone their way. Whatever was going on…Mollie knew Rowan and Micah were in on it. They were planning something, and whether it would work or not was still up in the air.

She swallowed stiffly. This newfound knowledge suddenly felt like a sudden pile of bricks on her chest. The Insurgency wanted to overthrow the Lyon empire completely and the people wanted James out of power. James had been limiting access to the West not because of protests related to Logan Lyon but because of _him_. The North and the South did not want him as their ruler and they were retaliating. It was all too much to process.

“Micah had been so upset that day…” she murmured mostly to herself as the guard stared at her. “The night of the ball…the promotion…the same day Logan Lyon had died.”

She was talking to herself, piecing together what had been right under her nose.

“With Logan Lyon gone and with no heir to take his place… that left the West and the North without a ruler. Had Logan not died, he would have ruled the West and the North accordingly. It would have been…perfect for them..." Mollie trailed off, realizing what this situation would have entailed. As far she knew Hartley had no intention of withdrawing his power in the South, but he was pushing Micah to claim the North for his own, even over his eldest son.

Had Logan not passed...there would have been no need for any promotion and Micah would have never been in the situation that faced him now. 

It made sense why James resisted Micah coming alone to the North. The West and the North were under the same jurisdiction, but Hartley appeared to have plans to change this. It was theoretically James Lyon’s territory at the moment...and she doubted he put any trust in Micah to play fairly. He feared Micah might usurp his autonomy. He must not know Micah’s true intentions. He must not know Micah did not seek the crown as dearly as he did.

Mollie felt a strong sense of catharsis after piecing together what had been bothering her since her early days at Questershire. But even knowing all that she knew now, it still didn’t explain why Mollie was here. Mollie was clever enough to realize that Micah did not do things without thorough meticulous planning. 

He had brought her along for a reason and that reason was not strictly sentimental, at least not at the crux of it all. 

What about her did he need? What role did she play in his plan and why did Rowan not agree with it?

“Take me back,” she whispered. She felt as if she were about to vomit. Mollie could no longer feel the cold, only a tense eviscerating numbness. 

The guard nodded and gestured for Mollie to follow. He had been quiet, listening to Mollie's musing but not saying a word. In some strange twisted fashion, she felt more at ease beside this man she barely knew than she ever did around Esperanza. It was as if he put up that cold menacing aura because he had to. You hid your weaknesses in these unforgiving lands.

Her fingers dug into the rough stone of the pillar she was leaning against and she couldn’t tell whether her shaking was due to the extreme cold or her own hyperactive body.

Gibbs said no more and neither did she as he led her back into that damp twisted corridor.

The laugher continued to permeate from across the courtyard but Mollie didn’t look back. She found solace in the darkness and navigated her way through the dark corridor. The comforting drip of ice water trickling down the walls was unusually peaceful and Mollie found herself humming the haunting ballad of her past as the guard returned her to her chambers, the fleeting tune echoing through the fortress like the bells of a church on a mountain range.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was...incredibly difficult to write. But I made it extra long because it's been a while since the last update.
> 
> Translations in Order:
> 
> *Shameless
> 
> *Thank God
> 
> *Such a claim is blasphemous


	29. Cuivre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie finds her leisure time suspended indefinitely. Mollie's relationship with Micah reaches a level she never could have anticipated as barriers crumble.

The weeks followed by in a manner that was becoming routine to Mollie. 

Questershire manor was massive, with its lush green gardens and open airy courtyards. But the harsh icy weather in these parts was limiting in what Mollie was able to accomplish. She had learned so much in the span of such little time and for the first time in a while, she was itching to speak to Micah. _Really_ speak to him. She knew he harboured a softer side. She had caught brief glimpses of it in Questershire – the offhand moment he kissed her forehead before she fell to sleep -- or when he brought her out to the cliff side to admire the night sky. She just wished those moments weren’t so fleeting. 

She didn’t see the prince for the majority of the day and she hadn’t seen Gibbs since that night. Mollie only saw Micah very late in the night when he’d creep into her room and fuck her hard and passionately into the sheets. He was never there when she woke, not so different from when she had been a prisoner in Questershire manor. The more intimate they were, the more Mollie picked up on. For one, Micah liked being in control, and his lovemaking was fierce and structured, no different from how he liked to run his business. 

But Micah was making things difficult for her.

He spoke less to her now, their short conversations centred mostly around Mollie’s health and wellbeing – or what little she had of it. She couldn’t tell if it was her causing him to sink into a deeper layer of obscurity, or if the pressures of running the profitable aspect of his empire was getting to him. 

Micah had instructed Cécily to keep her busy during the day with various activities that were usually bestowed upon those of a higher class. She had French lessons with Cécily three times a day, was forced to attend etiquette classes with some of the other female courtiers of the castle – which Mollie despised—and she was fitted into gown upon gown in a manner that was quickly becoming cumbersome to the girl. 

It left Mollie with little time to pursue her own agenda and even in times when she sought solitude, Cécily was always just around the corner. 

It was another late evening for Mollie as she sat at the vintage wooden desk in her quarters overlooking a frost covered window onto the white landscape of _Icedalar._ How long had she been a prisoner of the North? A month already? She felt as if she and the prince were on borrowed time. The words of Gibbs still echoed through her mind as she sat staring at a list of foreign words on the long aged parchment in front of her. She hadn’t seen him since that day either.

The sharp _click_ of the door opening behind her sent Mollie exhaling sharply as her brief moment of alone time was once again disturbed. 

“I’m not finished,” she called out straining to keep the irritation out of her voice. She didn’t even bother turning around. She focused her gaze back on the words in front of her and tried to filter out her irritation.

However her attempt to focus was promptly intercepted when cool uncovered fingers began to glide along her collarbone.

Mollie jerked back in surprise and was quickly held still as pale wintry palms spread out along her neck to slide past her shoulders and then quickly return to massage her collar bones.

It was early…early for Micah to be back in her chambers at this time.

“You seem to have settled in quite nicely,” he murmured pressing softly into the sharp edges of her chest. “I thought you may have been difficult…I anticipated it actually. But you’ve proven to be quite…understanding. It isn’t easy to settle into a place like this, I’m aware of that.”

Mollie was quiet, as she usually was these days. Her mind kept wandering back to his clueless fiancée. Mollie wondered if she was aware of what the prince was up to during his off hour times. 

“You were so limp last night,” he whispered against her ear giving her lobe a sharp tug with his teeth. “It was almost as if your mind was someplace else as we made love.”

She locked her jaw and stubbornly looked the other way. 

“What makes you think that?” she said stiffly bringing her papers closer to her face.

Micah brushed his nose against her jaw, inhaling her scent as he trailed down her neck to her exposed shoulder. She felt his smile against her skin.

“You tell me.”

She chose to ignore him, focusing instead on the scrawled foreign words that lined the aged parchment.

Her bronze hands were suddenly covered by cold pale ones as the prince rested his chin on her shoulder and observed her progress quietly.

“Not bad Mollie Mae,” he murmured into her skin. “You are indeed a quick learner.”

A pale finger scrolled down the parchment, his sharp eyes monitoring her progress like a professor would a struggling student. 

His skin had paled so much since they left Questershire. The lack of southern sun was evident in his long since faded sunkissed glow. 

“However…there is still much progress to be made. Push yourself a little harder.”

Mollie turned to him angrily, her silent treatment technique immediately dropping. 

“Excuse me? That’s easy for you to say, you already _know_ another language.”

“And you will too, in time,” he said shortly, his lips gradually turning into a frown. “Relax Mollie, I’m not trying to chastise you.”

She sighed and turned her head the other way. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Something about their little dispute felt rather…domestic. It was unnerving. 

“Mollie Mae?”

Micah’s cool breath fanned her shoulder and she stiffened as he brushed his nose against her neck. “Repeat after me.”

Mollie’s lip tightened but she wouldn’t refuse him. Not when he had both his arms around her chest and his lips against her throat. 

_“Avoir une autre langue c’est posséder une deuxiéme âme.”*_

Mollie rolled her eyes but acquiesced quietly. 

Her pronunciation was off, she knew that, but he didn’t comment on it. 

_“Bien,”_ he finished with a quick peck to her cheek. _“Vous voyez ma chérie? Vous êtes votre seule limite."*_

Mollie bit her lip as cold fingers began to work at the delicate buttons that lined the back of her dress and she braced herself for the long night ahead. 

***

It was colder than usual in _Icedalar_ that evening. Well, as cold as you could call the North on the brink of winter. 

Antoine Bordeaux paced nervously outside the hall, his fingers and toes cold to the point of unfeeling as he played with the edges of his status card in his front pocket, 

He had arrived only hours ago and no matter how many candles and fireplaces he lit around his room, he couldn't filter out the chill that seeped through his various layers of clothing.

He cursed as he wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. He was to meet with an attendant of the Lyon's tonight and he was nothing short of terrified. Not only did his people depend on it, his livelihood did. The Lyon empire had spread so vastly and swiftly like an insidious asymptomatic disease. It surrounded Antoine's little countryside village of Yvoire and he feared for their town. They were humble well to do folk who kept to their business...not unlike the other country side villages that used to surround them before they were taken over by the Lyons. He hoped this deal would offer some sort of extrication from invasion. He just hoped what he had to offer was enough. 

Antoine had closed many deals before...locally of course. But this...this was on another level entirely. 

He had started out with nothing but three grapeseeds and a hole sized patch of farmers land. But today, he had an entire farmers field filled with grapevines and underground cellars. 

He had been fed up with the townspeople pilfering the grapes that grew along his vineyards so he created his own solution with everyday materials in his back shed to ward off the peasants. And it had worked...quite beautifully. 

He didn't think too much of it when other businesses began to ask for this "magic" solution, but the letter he received from the Lyons set him on a new track. 

_"Monsieur Bordeax?"_

The man turned quickly, the deep voice bringing him back down to reality. 

_"Oui, c'est moi," _he stuttered buttoning up his thick coat.__

_"Le prince desire vous voir aussitôt Monsieur,"*_

Antoine felt his insides flop at the sudden change in plans but nodded in agreement nonetheless. He was in no way prepared to see the prince. Hell, he wasn't even dressed properly. He suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable in his many layers but he stiffly followed the guard down the long corridor towards the large white doors at the end of the hallway. 

Antoine was from a very small village on the outskirts of the Lyon border. He was one of the few bilingual labourers at the time but he was a hardworker. He was also one of the few to rise above his secondary status and earn well beyond a regular individual born of that caste. 

There were many guards around, pacing, watching, or simply just standing at many different corners of the meeting room and Antoine felt a new chill permeate the air. 

He stared wide eyed at the nearly empty room and jumped when he heard his name being called out from just beyond the long table that spread from one end of the room to the other. 

_"Monsieur Bordeax. J'espère que votre voyage n'a pas été trop pénible.*"_

The smooth inviting tone was quite enticing and Antoine was taken aback that the prince even knew his name. 

_"Votre Majesté,"_ he managed in between quivering lips. 

Antoine looked up in poorly disguised astonishment at the man before him. 

There was no mistaking the man for anybody but the prince. Unlike the others around him who wore large padded coats, he wore a thick navy cloak that framed his incredibly tall figure elegantly and his dark tousled locks were combed and styled into a classic but fashionable side part to compliment his sharp features. The prince looked so young, barely even twenty Antoine assumed. He must be the youngest one, most certainly. He had never seen the youngest prince, but he looked very much different from his brothers.

On his arm was a stylish blonde woman with dark red lipstick who opted to look at the man beside her rather than Antoine who was only a few steps away.

_"Vous parlez Anglais, il paraît?"*_

Antoine stumbled a little bit before he responded.

 _"Oui...yes._ Yes of course."

The prince had the most vibrant eyes, a clear luminescent green that made Antoine feel as if the man were staring straight into his soul. 

"Wonderful," he said with a crooked smile. The woman beside him gave his arm a soft squeeze and a coy smile before she sauntered off, her blond locks catching the warm candlelight. The prince's eyes never strayed from his, not once. 

"Can I offer you a drink? _Chambord? Pastis? Kir Royale?_

"Oh..er I," Antoine stammered. 

The prince didn't waste another moment and signalled for one of the guards behind him to bring Antoine a drink. 

Antoine hesitated as a beautiful goblet was offered to him filled with a dark but unknown liquid 

The prince was charming as he guided Antoine towards the large table in the centre of the room and took a seat across from him. 

He took a small reluctant sip out of politeness as the prince continued speaking. 

It was bitter. 

"I'm told you have the most prosperous vineyard in _Yvoire."_

Antoine gave a breathless gasp as he placed his goblet on the table. He eyed the full untouched glass of the prince in front of him. 

"It works," Antoine mumbled choosing to evade eye contact. There was something unnatural about the man in front of him. How still...how stiffly he carried himself. He was almost _too_ aware of his surroundings and it made Antoine nervous. 

The prince smiled at Antoine. 

"You're humility is admirable _Monsieur Bordeaux,"_ but I must implore you take full ownership of your achievements. This solution you use on your crops...tell me about it."

Antoine shifted uncomfortably but continued. 

“I was tired of the townsfolk stealing my grapevines…it was getting to the point that I didn’t have enough to even make 5 bottles of wine. So I figured, I’d spray the grapes with something strong and pungent to ward off the thieves. I used copper sulphate and lime to make the grapes unpalatable. I’d hoped this would deter them into stealing from my farmland.” 

The prince looked somewhere far away as Antoine spoke and he hesitated before he continued. 

_“Votre Majesté?”_ he questioned. 

The prince’s lips tightened ever so slightly but he kept a pleasant expression plastered on his face, his eyes sharpening. 

“Continue.”

“Well…Well it turns out that not only did my solution keep the peasants away…it prevented powdery mildew infestations from infiltrating my farmland. It was a complete accident really. I didn’t know the combination of these ingredients had potential to do such things.”

The prince listened intently and Antoine shuffled in his seat nervously. It was hard to tell what the young prince was thinking. He kept such a placid expression on his face Antoine wasn’t sure whether he wanted to help him or harm him. 

“This is quite an… inexpensive concoction by the sounds of it,” the prince said raising an eyebrow.

“Indeed,” Antoine responded with a quick nod. “I make it in many batches and sell it. I..I’ve told no one else the ingredients.”

“Clever man,” the prince said with a smile. “This simple little…accident may just make you the richest man in Yvoire.”

Antoine smiled weakly and looked down at his still full glass. 

He had a question he had been meaning to ask the prince, a question his wife and his homefolk had begged him to convey. 

“There is one more thing…your majesty.”

The prince suddenly seemed more interested and Antoine saw his eyes pierce into his own and the man swallowed thickly.

“Your Imperial army rests on the border of our lands, just a mile off the coast. We are free peoples. We want no business with the army nor your political affairs. Just peace. Your army grows closer every day and my people…they are concerned. With so much of the countryside having been taken over in the past – _Saignon, Ménéham, Riverton_ – we are worried.”

The prince held up a hand and Antoine quickly stopped short. He bowed his head down slightly as a sign of respect and shivered under the intense gaze of the prince.

“I understand your concerns,” he responded crisply. “But my expertise is strictly economical. Any political matters must be taken up with your town’s personal guard.” 

“We are peaceful folk your majesty,” Antoine said quickly his tone becoming more desperate. “We don’t have a personal guard. All we ask is that our town is spared from Lyon control. We don’t want any invasion. Please, please your majesty you must be able to do something.”

The prince sighed and turned away for a moment. When he turned around to face Antoine, the man felt his heart thump unevenly in his chest.

He didn’t look pleased.

“The best thing you can do for you and your town is to take this money we are offering you so generously and distribute it amongst your people. Use it to build your town their own guard. Being a neutral peaceful settlement is impractical in these times. If you don’t establish fierce sovereign rule over your own lands, it is up for anyone stronger to take it for themselves.”

The prince stepped closer and Antoine froze under his sharp gaze.

“Understand _Monsieur Bordeaux,_ this is the best thing I can do for you. I will take the solution you have given me and I will name it in your honour. Although it will be a product sold under Lyon Enterprises, it will bear your name. I’m sure much of our lands will benefit from what you have created -- just as _Yvoire_ has.”

There was an odd urgency in the prince’s tone. A take it or leave it attitude that put the man on edge. 

“I…I cannot accept that.”

The dead gaze that overtook the prince’s eyes made Antoine want to slit his own wrists right then and there. 

“I’m afraid I will not sell it to you unless you ensure that my town is free of Lyon jurisdiction.”

The prince neither reacted nor appeared angry. Instead his expression was glassy. Almost apprehensive. 

_“Monsieur Bordeaux,_ I urge you to accept –“ 

“Is there a problem gentleman?”

Another deep, rich voice eased its way into the conversation and Antoine nearly choked on his own saliva when he saw who stood beside the prince.

Antoine bowed deeply and then rose, his bravery disintegrating like snowflakes on an ocean. 

He didn’t look him in the eyes, he was forbidden to, but the man didn’t look at him either. His eyes were trained on the prince. 

“My son is a rather persuasive businessman. He doesn’t let a deal escape his clutches. I couldn’t help but feel a sudden tension here. I do hope everything is going smoothly. You know any grievances you may have can be addressed directly to me _Monsieur.”_

Antoine slowly looked up at the King of the Lyon Empire. He was tall, like his son but with cold cruel features that made Antoine want to drop everything and run all the way back to his country side village. 

“Please,” the king said smoothly with a gesture. “Tell me your grievances.” 

The prince had stiffened. His already still figure as indistinguishable as the glaciers that bordered the land. 

Antoine’s eyes flickered to the prince once before it landed on the King.

His eyes were like two simmering coals, with an impenetrable depth that drew you in and left you feeling bare and vulnerable. He had heard stories…so many stories about the man in front of him. Never did he think he would meet him in his lifetime – and under such circumstances. 

Antoine was rendered speechless for a moment, his stuttering getting the best of him. The look in the King’s eyes sent a clear message and Antoine suddenly realized the gravity of his current situation. 

“I…I have none,” he said wanly giving another short bow. “The prince and I have come to a fair and suitable agreement. It was…lovely doing business with you.” 

He bowed once more averting his eyes and made a beeline for the exit.

“Hold on for one moment Antoine,” came a deep drawl from the table. 

Antoine realized in a shock that the room was empty and he felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably. 

_Was it empty when he walked in?_

“Micah, please see this lovely gentleman out. Make sure his departure is satisfactory. It can be a rather…precarious journey back to the countryside.”

***

Mollie had come to the conclusion that _Icedalar_ was the epitome of grief and remembrance. 

Something about the howling wind and heavy snowfall reminded her of sharp whispers and manual labour. 

She had been told that many bodies of soldiers had died on these lands and that the snow was simply too much for the survivors to recover them. Not only was it too arduous a task to pursue, it was damn near impossible. The snow was too heavy and the bodies were well preserved due to the cold temperature. It was unsettling to think that they were unable to decompose beneath all that snow. Mollie’s grandmother had told her that the souls of those who passed without a proper burial scoured the earth in search of closure – desperately seeking another soul to latch onto. She wondered if the wind was a medium – a medium for those lost souls to release their anguish.

She hadn’t seen Micah in a week already and her full schedule prevented her from wandering the fortress. Mollie wondered if it was simply Micah’s tactical way of keeping her confined to the West wing…as well as keeping her occupied. The prince was adroit that way -- in the sense, that he planned for things well in advance of them occurring. 

She had finished her lesson unusually early today and she was hoping to slip out of her chambers and continue her sleuthing. Mollie was a country girl to the core. She couldn’t resist exploring places she hadn’t explored yet. It was a constant itch at the back of her mind that she simply couldn’t scratch.

Quickly-- as to escape Cécily and any guards on the nightshift, she slipped on her boots and her yellow cloak and made a beeline for the doors to her quarters.

She yelped when she slammed into something hard and as solid as the cold stone that lined the castle.

Mollie felt the air leave her lungs in a single _whoosh_ and she gulped when she caught site of what she had made contact with.

Micah stood still and silent, the contact not having even an ounce of the effect on him as it had on her. 

Mollie stumbled backward, her chest aching as the dread pooled in her stomach. It was in moments like these where Mollie truly believed she had the worst luck in the world.

Mollie had realized her mistake long before Micah’s expression had changed. She could already tell from his stiff posture, his cold gaze – his trembling hands that something was off.

She could see his eyebrows furrow and the anger build in his eyes as he realized what Mollie had planned to do and she cried out in pain as he grabbed her wrist sharply and pulled her closer to him with a jerk that snapped her head forward. 

“Going somewhere?”

His voice was breathless --almost strained and Mollie recoiled as much as she could.

His eyes scanned her boots and the cloak she had carelessly tossed around her shoulders. 

“If you desire some fresh air all you have to do is ask.” 

His tone was abrasive and she shuddered as he released her swiftly and brushed past her into the room. 

“However I daresay you’ll find yourself with a nasty bit of frostbite without proper gloves and protection.”

When he returned he tossed her a thick padded coat along with snug fur lined gloves for her fingers. 

Mollie didn’t like the tone in his voice. In fact, she didn’t like Micah’s entire demeanour in general. 

He seemed less robust tonight -- a rather a rare occurrence. She could tell from the deep purple bruises that had formed beneath his vibrant green eyes – a side effect from lack of sleep. His skin seemed less luminescent, more waxy and elastic and he kept flexing his knuckles, almost as if he were reminding himself constantly of something. He had lost all colour in what used to be thick caramel waves painted with streaks of gold in his hair – the lack of exposure to sunlight instead, turning his hair a dark chestnut, closer in colour to his brothers.

“Let’s take a walk shall we?”

Mollie knew better than to think it was an offer. 

She slipped her arms into the warm coat and followed the prince down the candlelit hallway. 

***

Micah had gone quiet after she had accompanied him outside and she could feel the ambivalence circulating around his stiff form. 

The snow had picked up and Mollie hesitated as they passed beneath an open roofless segment of the fortress. The icy spray of white against her face stunned her for a moment but Micah pushed her forward. 

She was... surprised.

She expected some sort of punishment…a lecture maybe? 

She remembered how angry he had gotten in Questershire when she escaped from his quarters the night of the White Ball.

But Micah said nothing more on the subject. He seemed rather drained. 

“It’s most pleasant in the evening,” he murmured suddenly, guiding her over an icy part of the pathway.

The sun was obscured this far up North, but for some reason, the moon was always the most tangible object in the sky. It gleamed shamelessly bright in spite of it being early evening.

Micah eyed her curiously as she tightened her hold on his arm as he led them out of the fortress into a landscape of white. 

He was correct. The temperature was surprisingly pleasant and there was a light layer of fluffy snow that fell from the sky. Mollie wasn’t sure if it was simply a pleasant night out or that she was just adequately dressed for the cold weather – thanks to the prince. A pathway had been cleared around this area of the grounds pushing the snow into a high wall of solid white that resembled circular arches surrounding the path. She loosened the death grip she had on Micah and continued forward. 

The architecture from this viewpoint was aesthetically pleasing.

Mollie had never seen so much snow in her life. Chartery only received the thin icky snow that quickly melted into grey slush the minute it hit the ground. But in this place, the snow fell and it was here to stay, elegant and clean. 

Mollie smiled as the light snow sprinkled her dark curls and pinkened her cheeks in the chilly air. The air was clean here, so different from the smog infused atmosphere in Chartery and she took a moment to appreciate it. She had longed to be someplace else rather than in the cold stoney interior of _Château de Glace_ and she relished the change in scenery. 

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, the cold present --but not uncomfortable. She could feel Micah watching her out the corner of her eye. He wore a thick double breasted _paletot_ coat in navy blue with large silver buttons. It matched the navy coloured waistcoat he wore underneath all those layers. 

Mollie could feel the burning eyes of the guards through her back as she walked arm in arm with the prince. It made her deeply uncomfortable but Micah was accustomed to it. Or perhaps…maybe he had no choice but to accept it. 

She heard quiet panting from beside her and looked to see Theodora bounding up to her owner with her heavy paws. 

The wolf brushed against Micah affectionately, her tail high in the air and her blue eyes sharp. There was something regal about the way she padded beside Micah, as if she were more than a companion, but also a confidant. There was something eerily human-like about the wolfs eyes that made Mollie nervous. 

Micah stroked her head once, her thick white fur almost indiscernible amongst the white ambiance. She hummed against him before she bounded forward in front of them and sauntered off into the night, her pawprints disappearing with the next sudden wind. 

They continued their walk in silence, past the exterior walls of the manor with Micah moving slightly in front of Mollie to lead the way. The snow dampened her lashes and brushed her skin with soft caresses as the snowfall picked up.

Eventually, they reached a long isolated tower near the southern most part of the fortress. Mollie watched Micah approach the lone guard pacing the entrance and speak to him quietly. 

He motioned for her to join him and she hurriedly followed, the thick snow accumulating almost to her knees. 

The interior of the tower was warmer than she had expected and she watched as Micah bent low in the dim lighting, hurling a thick black chain downwards to lift the heavy wooden door blocking the entrance to another treacherous staircase. 

Mollie frowned when she saw all the steps leading upwards towards the open sky at the top. 

“I’m not walking up there,” she said immediately taking a step back from the prince. 

He didn’t answer her but only motioned with his head downwards, towards a staircase she hadn’t noticed before. 

“We’re not going up, we’re going down.”

He sounded tired in his voice, as if the weight of the snow that glistened like glass shards across his dark locks was too heavy a burden for him to bear. 

“How far down is it?” she questioned inching her head forward. She couldn’t see beyond the first couple steps and at that moment she heard Micah sigh heavily behind her.

He reached behind her and grabbed one of the few blazing torches from its place on the wall. 

“You ask too many questions.” 

The tightness in his voice sounded more reprimanding than it did neutral and Mollie took the hint. 

She waited as he took his time lighting the torch-holders that surrounded the circular room around them.

There was a thin crystalline layer of chains that crisscrossed along the wall and Mollie found herself drawn to the minuscule crystals. They shimmered against the black stone, reflecting the white and black surroundings and Mollie felt a sudden compulsion to feel the texture beneath her fingers. 

Gingerly she peeled off a glove and delicately touched her fingers against the minute spheres of ice that lined the door. The sensation was no different than brushing her fingers against an open flame and she recoiled with a cry as the metal burned her fingers. 

Micah was in front of her in an instant, torch in hand as the girl sunk her singed fingers into her palms and swore under her breath. 

Quickly he snatched her hand up and turned it over to observe the red criss crosses that lined the pads of Mollie’s three fingers. 

“What is that?” she gasped, the sensation making her head pound with its pain potency. 

“Ultrachilled metal,” Micah murmured. Mollie was surprised to see his expression teeter between exasperation and amusement but the pain was keeping her senses hyperactive. “We use it in the dungeons to deter prisoners from attempting to escape. It’s usually manufactured but it occurs naturally too…when the temperature drops far enough.” 

He paused for a moment flipping Mollie’s hand over. 

“It’s also used during the installation of drilling wells to extract oil from the seabed. It’s an interesting material…to admire visually. It’s not a pleasant feeling to the touch.” 

He stepped closer to observe her injury and brushed his gloved fingers gently across her wounded fingers.

“It’s not frostbitten and it won’t scar,” he murmured. “You’re lucky the metal wasn’t fresh. You’ll only lose a couple fingers.”

Mollie jerked her head up to see a crooked smile on his face and for a second she was completely stunned.

_Did the prince just joke?_

She didn’t think she’d ever live long enough to witness a moment like that.

As quickly as snow on a windshield, his smile was gone and replaced with the cold unfeeling frown that was more reminiscent of the prince. 

Mollie felt as if she were constantly teetering on uncharted lands between the Micah she wanted to know and the Micah she was accustomed to. It always surprised her how tender and alluring he could be in some moments and how utterly cruel and impassive he could be in others. She didn’t want to believe that the same Micah in front of her now was the same Micah who had murdered all those people in the dungeons of Questershire only weeks ago. 

He was a total wildcard and it made her feel as if she were traversing through a depthless pit of eggshells. 

She wondered why Micah was taking her so far away from the fortress. It was as if he didn’t want to be seen…or perhaps he didn’t want _her_ to be seen. 

She had thought she had gotten better at picking up on his emotions but maybe she had been reading him wrong the whole time.

She suddenly felt apprehensive and she swallowed thickly before she descended downstairs, the prince on her heels.

***

Mollie stood tired, cold and sickeningly stiff in the middle of the snow covered dingy tunnel somewhere beneath _Château de Glace._

There was a soft clinking sound that echoed above them, as sharp and as consistent as a metronome. It echoed above Mollie as she stood in front of the prince. Micah was behind her, his gloved hands resting lightly on her waist as he nuzzled the smooth skin between her neck and her ear.

He stood behind her like that for a long time, his thick curls brushing her cheek as he breathed in her scent, his grip on her waist tightening every so often. Mollie winced when he pushed his hands beneath her thick coat. He brought his hands up slowly over the smooth flat skin of her belly to eventually settle on her breasts. 

Mollie inhaled sharply as he squeezed them in his palms, the coldness of his leather against her sensitive skin making her squirm before him. Mollie opened her eyes when his lips brushed her jaw and she felt the air rush through her lips when she caught sight of the markings on the wall.

Mollie figured he had taken her to some kind of underground torture chamber and she barely stifled a scream as Micah slapped his gloved hand against her mouth.

“Shh,” he murmured as Mollie stumbled backwards in horror at the blood stained walls and scratch marks that lined the walls.

He nudged her from behind, any remnant of comfort that existed in his voice diminished immediately. 

“Stand up.”

She scrambled on her hands and knees, her hands sinking into earth and snow as she struggled to stand. 

She couldn’t even speak.

Her eyes were fixed on the blood stained walls and the heavy metal weapons that hung from the low ceiling.

Mollie spotted the fresh blood against the snow, appearing so much more potent than blood seeped into soil. She scrambled on her hands and knees and retched into the snow. 

Micah stood in front of her now, hands twisted deep in his coat pockets and turned to face her. He didn’t seem surprised or irritated at her reaction.

His expression was rather indifferent and his manner purely phlegmatic. It was as if the easy going prince she had walked with on her way here had been replaced by his wintry hardened doppelgänger. 

“You asked me about my father once, a while ago now. Do you remember?” 

He ignored her coughs and splutters as that horridly familiar smell of fresh blood assaulted her senses.

“You asked me to tell you more about myself.”

Mollie felt numb. Her legs brittle and unbalanced as she staggered to her feet.

Had he truly brought her all the way out here to speak to her about himself? Did he not trust any of the guards in the castle? They must have been a good few miles from the _château_ at this point, and even so, a few good metres under ground. 

He turned to glance casually around them for a moment, as if he were simply admiring a mural at an art gallery instead of the blood thickened walls that surrounded them. 

“I’m not who you think I am Mollie.” 

His blunt statement was enough to pull Mollie back into focus and she stared at him hard as he took a step closer to her. 

“Queen Porphyria was not my mother.”

Mollie had harboured her suspicions and she had confirmed this fact before she had left Questershire. 

She wanted to start rattling off the many questions she had bouncing around in her head for him, but something told her to let him speak. It was uncommon for him to open up so willingly. 

“It wasn’t difficult for me to figure it out -- I looked nothing like her. And my brothers…my brothers had known. They knew from the beginning, long before my father told me.”

His voice was soft when he spoke, but the stiffness of his stance suggested he was working hard to keep himself composed. 

“I was told she had died during childbirth, but that was just another lie to cover up what I had known all along. She wasn’t royalty…”

Mollie watched as the torchlight painted his thick locks a lighter shade as he twirled the ring on his finger. 

“Illegitimate children are not destined to be princes or princesses Mollie. It is against the royal code. But my father orchestrated quite the intricate plan to make it seem as if I were a child of monarchical status.”

The clanging from above them started up again for a moment and Micah paused, waiting for the sound to lower before he continued.

“I never understood as a child why I was treated differently. Why was it my father flaunted me before his subjects like a prize to be admired only to take me back into the heart of his chambers and beat me till I could no longer stand?”

His fingers flexed as he continued and Mollie could see his head tilt to the side in bitterness. 

“Why was it that I was forced to take on the responsibilities of a prince when that title never belonged to me in the first place?” 

Micah’s breathing had increased and Mollie could hear the acrimony in his voice. 

“Every slap, every whip, every horrid punishment I endured only to groom me for a position that should have never belonged to me.”

Mollie saw the faintest tremor run through him and she suddenly felt overcome with emotion. Overcome with the hidden horror that the man in front of her had lived. To the rest of the world he appeared so privileged, so groomed, so…perfect. Yet in reality, he had experienced such unspeakable horrors that he kept concealed in a dark pit of internal turmoil. 

“My father would always make me look at him when he whipped me with his chain -- make me stand straight so he could stare deeply into my eyes, _Verte comme la Terre_ he would say. _Ses yeux, vertes comme la Terre.”_

Mollie saw Micah turn suddenly, his eyes glowing in the dark room. 

“But I learned quickly. I learned that pleasing him was my way to escape those awful punishments, even if it was at the expense of my other relationships.”

Mollie figured he was referring to his brothers but he continued speaking.

“I watched my father gut a guard for stealing food for his family at six years old. Killed my own at nine. The earlier the better my father would say.” 

He paused for a moment, shuffling through his childhood memories that had resurfaced at this untimely hour. 

“I was the ideal prince,” he murmured. “I attended every meeting, addressed the public when need be, maintained my impeccable reputation, and excelled in the art of swordsmanship. I did it all because my father demanded it.”

Mollie had always thought she had it bad. Worse than most people for instance. But hearing Micah speak made her feel guilty for ever believing that her situation was worse than anyone else she knew. She had always carried that bitterness deep down inside of her. But even with all of the terrible memories she had of her mother, there was a time when she was loved. There was a time when knew she was loved and she had experienced what it felt like to be loved. She knew what it felt like to be softly caressed against the cheek, to be pulled so warmly and snuggly into the chest of another and feel so protected. Even if that time in her life had been so brief, it was almost fleeting, she had still felt it. She had still _felt_ it. 

“I’m exhausted Mollie. I’m tired of being the pawn disguised as the queen in my father’s game of chess.” 

Mollie had felt tears spill over her lids as she remembered all of the horrible things she had spat at Micah in a rage. She hadn’t known he had been through this…certainly not to this extent and she suddenly felt a surge of emotions flow through her. The animosity she felt towards Hartley was something cold and biting that ate at her insides like an eosinophil at a nematode. She felt a new hatred towards the man. A dark simmering void that opened her to a different reality. A reality where Micah may have been different, and not the damaged cold hearted person he had been raised to be. Her mind replayed images--images of a young boy running through the fields of Questershire, with light hair, green eyes and sun kissed skin. A boy who believed his freedom would come to him one day in the near future. 

Mollie felt a heaviness overcome her. Only days ago she was happy to agree with Gibbs that Micah should be king as he was raised to be -- regardless of whether he liked it or not. But now….now she considered the repercussions of these actions. About the kind of person Micah would become, about what it would do to him. Why should she care so much? Why _did_ she care so much?

“Micah,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“I’m not going to be King. I refuse to be.”

The hardness of his tone echoed throughout the dank tunnel and Mollie shivered underneath his fierce gaze. 

The clanging from above began again and Mollie jerked as the sudden noise interrupted the cold silence between them.

Micah looked up briefly -- only registering the sound now.

“My father moved the operational unit of the business to _Icedalar._ He thought it best to setup the industrial aspects of his company in a place away from any prying eyes. It just so happens to be close to Obsidian land as well. Makes any trade deals a lot easier to mediate.”

Mollie breathed heavily through her mouth, the scent of aged blood still potent even in the grimy ambiance. 

“People work out here?” she managed to say. Her nose stung with the sharp scent and an odd salty taste was growing on her palate. 

“Yes.” Micah’s voice was grim when he responded.

Mollie shuddered just thinking about the deplorable conditions and the people the Lyons employed to do their dirty work. It fuelled her anger.

“They listen don’t they?” she whispered.

Mollie pushed herself up and ignored the pain in her fingers and the odour that saturated her senses. 

“They listen to everything you say, everything you do. That’s why you brought me out here didn’t you?”

Micah sighed.

“You can’t trust anyone…” Mollie hesitated. “You don’t trust anyone.”

_What happened to you Micah?_

She wished she knew. She wished she could understand him better. Understand _why_ he was the way he was. 

She felt as if she were getting there -- inching closer to the person that existed just behind the visage of the prince the rest of the world saw. 

Mollie hesitated as she slowly inched forward, her steps leaving footprints in the light snow. 

She was overcome with emotion tonight, in a strange foreign manner. She felt as if Micah’s pain was mirrored in her own and she felt tears prick the edges of her eyes. She didn’t know why she felt this way. 

Her emotions had been turbulent for a while now but Mollie figured it must have been a part of the acclimatization process. She had gone from one extreme to the next. It would take a while before homeostasis was achieved.

“Micah,” she whispered closing the distance between them.

She reached out, her hand quivering in the darkness to grip his cool wrist.

He stiffened at the gesture but she didn’t let up. She pressed herself against him from behind, allowing his scent to wash over her. 

“Micah,” she breathed again. Her face nuzzled the back of his coat – the thick material rich with the scent of his cologne. 

He turned around so he was facing her. His dark tousled hair glistened in the dim lighting and his eyes shimmered. His irises seemed more vivid for some reason, but maybe it was just the lighting. 

Mollie hesitated when she saw the wetness on his blushed cheeks. 

_Were those tears?_

_“Me faire oublier_ Mollie,” he whispered. _“Juste pour un moment._ Make me forget…”

She was frozen as he fell to his knees, the snow parting around them as the tremors rocked his body, one after another. 

His head rested against her lower abdomen as his breathing rushed in an out of him in a way that rattled Mollie to the core.

Here she stood, with the future king on his knees before her, his face pressed against her stomach as his hands fisted at the material covering her waist. He held onto her as if she were a lone lifeboat in the middle of the open sea. 

His breathing was ragged, his dark curls loose and unruly as they brushed the sliver of exposed skin on her abdomen.

Mollie lost her breath for a moment and was able to manage two weak inhales and exhales before she let her self sink to her knees in front of the prince. 

No words were spoken as she grasped his hands in hers and pulled the gloves from his pale fingers. 

Thick blood covered his hands, from the fingertips to the crevices between his knuckles to run in dried rivulets to his wrist. 

If Mollie hadn’t known the man in front of her…she would have assumed it was paint. Reddish brown paint with deep undertones. But she knew. Hell, she knew better than that.

She lay still as he collapsed into her lap, like a child to his mother. His arms encircled her waist in a tight grip. It was uncomfortably tight but she remained unmoving even when he pressed his face to her belly. She brought her hand forward and ran it through his thick curls. 

Mollie looked up at the blood spattered walls, and the white snow beneath them as the sound of metal on metal started up from layers above them. 

The moonlight didn’t penetrate this far down. But Mollie knew when they made the long journey back to the fortress, it would be plagued by darkness, with only the light of the moon to guide them back onto the path. She could hear the wind pick up from outside, the snow hitting the walls of the tower with a force that rattled the windowsill and extinguished the torchlight.

She no longer felt cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations in order:
> 
> *To speak another language is to have a second soul
> 
> *You see my dear? You are your only limit
> 
> *The prince wishes to see you promptly Sir
> 
> *I hope your trip wasn't too difficult
> 
> *You speak English I've been told?


	30. Zinc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie attends her first major event in the North. Some familiar faces return to the North with some unintended consequences.

“Can you at least _try_ to work with me _Mademoiselle?”_

Mollie sighed heavily as Cécily set the bodice tightly around Mollie’s tall frame. Mollie felt bad as the petite woman stood on a stool to reach Mollie’s lanky height. 

“You can keep tightening it all you want,” Mollie muttered as Cécily tugged hard on the lacy material. “It’s not going to make me look any curvier.”

“Nonsense,” Cécily grunted with another sharp pull. “I make miracles happen.”

Mollie frowned as Cécily continued her efforts for a minute longer, only to release the material with an exasperated huff.

 _“Je ne comprends pas!”_ she cried out angrily. “You just fit into this a week ago. You gained some weight.”

Mollie scoffed as Cécily gave up, removing the corset and heading back to the large wardrobe muttering under her breath.

“Maybe we can try this one?”

Mollie turned and wrinkled her nose at the suggestion.

“I’m tired of pink.”

Cécily turned again, shuffling through gown after gown before Mollie caught sight of something that immediately captured her attention.

“That one,” she said quietly. 

Cécily paused, her outstretched fingers hesitating halfway between the wardrobe and her body. 

“It’s a bit revealing _Mademoiselle._ Master Lyon won’t approve, he insisted you wear the one he specifically chose for you. Maybe the red one in a similar style is more prudent --”

Mollie ignored her and stretched forward feeling the slinky glimmering material between her fingers. 

“This is the one.”

***

Mollie supposed she looked pretty.

She opted to wear her hair down tonight, her thick curls complimenting the slinky figure- hugging gown she wore till it reached almost to her waist. The dress was tight, tighter than she had first assumed and it hugged her breasts in a way that made them seem larger than they were. The slit reached the top of her bronzed thigh and pooled at the back of her ankle in a small but lengthy train. 

Cécily had applied her makeup impressively well, honing in on Mollie’s most striking features and bringing emphasis towards them. Mollie wasn’t used to it and felt a compelling urge to rub a hand against her eye or bite her lower lip to the scolding of Cécily. She chatted with the woman as she worked on Mollie. 

“Why do I have to be there?” she questioned as Cécily released a pin from her hair. 

“Master Lyon wants you there so you will be there.” 

Mollie shifted when she heard this…her mind going elsewhere. 

“Will his fiancée be there?”

Cécily stopped what she was doing for a moment. She swiftly composed herself releasing Mollie’s thick hair and styling it as she responded. 

“I-I’m not sure. It’s not my place to ask him such questions.”

Mollie could already picture it. The chiding remarks, the air of disgust that would follow her as she walked arm in arm with Micah. They saw her as nothing more than his concubine. 

“Who else will be there?” Mollie asked. Her voice had a slight tremor and she bit her lip. 

“The usual,” Cécily said with a shrug. “Business partners, diplomats, noblemen and noblewomen.”

Cécily attached two glittering diamonds to her ears along with a thin shimmering bracelet around her skinny wrist. She then sheathed Mollie’s skinny arms in snow white coloured gloves that felt like silk to the skin.

The woman took a step back and inhaled sharply as she instructed Mollie to stand. 

Mollie hesitated as she stood in front of her, the dress hugging her almost _too_ tightly. 

“What?” she said after a while, the silence making her tense. “That bad?”

Cécily swallowed loudly before she responded.

“No..No not at all. You look…breathtaking _Mademoiselle._ Truly.”

Mollie blushed and looked away. 

She had chosen the dress – a rare occurrence-- and she had chosen a dress with every feature she _knew_ would irritate the prince. 

She wasn’t sure why she did it. 

Micah’s temper was not to be tested – but she knew…somehow she knew he wouldn’t reach a certain limit with her.

And that emboldened her. 

It made her yearn to toy with him in the same way he toyed with her. To push each other to the edge…to indulge in a precarious game of roulette…to the point where neither was really sure the other would be able to find solid footing again. But it was that excitement…that anticipation of finding out whether they’d comeback that was most enticing. It was like lighting a match in a room of fresh gasoline and wondering if they'd be able to put out the fire before the entire room went up in flames. 

“Turn around _Mademoiselle."_

Mollie turned. 

Her long legs complimented the tight fitting dress well and it hugged her bosom in a way that drew all of the attention to her breasts. And the colour…a deep vivid emerald green.

Cécily zeroed in on her legs and Mollie swore she saw the woman pale ever so slightly. She opened her mouth to say something…seemed to think better of it…and silently closed her mouth.

“Let’s get you to the dining hall.”

***

Mollie stood outside the massive white doors to the dining hall and shivered. It was cold in this corridor and Mollie quickly realized most other women opted for long sleeved gowns for this kind of climate and she suddenly felt foolish for wearing something so revealing. Her nerves were all over the place and her skin prickled with goosebumps. 

Mollie hadn’t seen Micah for at least two and half weeks already, but she had heard from Cécily that he had returned to _Icedalar_ earlier that morning. 

She swallowed uneasily, thinking about the prolonged absence between them. 

She didn’t like having to play dress up for Micah at his beck and call, but she was happy to take any opportunity to leave her quarters. In spite of the spaciousness and opulence of the West Wing, Mollie still couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the riches. Her heart ached for liberation. At the end of the day, she was still his prisoner and he her master. And no matter how much she loathed the idea, people still saw her as the prince’s whore. 

_“Entrez.”_

Mollie turned to Cécily, who released her arm promptly. 

“I feel sick,” she admitted, her stomach in tight knots as Cécily urged her forward. Mollie had recently recovered from a cold and she still felt sluggish after days of bedrest. It was yet another reason why she detested winter. Mollie had also woken up with an unusual bout of nausea that morning. But it had passed as quickly as it came and she didn’t think too much of it. She was still recovering after all. 

_“Mademoiselle?”_

The guard outside the door looked irritated and Mollie quickly turned around to face the entrance. She saw the guards face go bright red as he took in her outfit. She didn’t miss how his eyes flickered to her breasts then sheepishly away as if he had been caught doing something wrong. 

“You may enter,” he sniffed, his distaste not going unnoticed by the tall skinny girl.

Mollie took a deep breath and walked forward as the doors opened. 

***

The first thing Mollie noticed was ice. 

Ice chairs, ice tables, ice chandeliers. 

She had seen this place before, at a distance with Gibbs several weeks ago. But now that Mollie was _here,_ she could tell just how restricted her sight was from that distance. 

The glass chandelier hung high above the large room and glistened like ripples in water as it caught the light from the torches that lined the walls. 

It had gone noticeably quiet when Mollie walked into the hall and she suddenly felt horribly vulnerable as many noblemen and women turned to stare at her.

Their whispers filled her ears and she quickly shuffled over to the back of the hall, careful not to teeter too much in her heels or trip on the train of her gown.

_“Du champagne pour la petite dame?”_

Mollie tripped over her words as she desperately tried to remember her still mediocre French.

“Um.. _Non..juste l’eau est bonne…merci.”_

The guard tightened his lip but nodded and continued around the room. 

Mollie glanced around her looking for Micah but she didn’t see him...not yet. There were many noble men and women in the room and the women were dressed to the nines…but none of them had a dress quite like Mollie’s. She suddenly wished she had allowed Cécily to convince her to change. She didn’t need to draw more attention to herself than she already did.

“Well well well, we meet again _fillette.”_

Mollie jumped and turned to see Gibbs standing beside her, arms crossed over his simple but form fitting suit. He had a strange expression splayed across his harsh features. Something between appraisal and confusion.

“You do know you’re in the North girl?”

Mollie rolled her eyes at the comment.

“No I hadn’t noticed,” she responded caustically taking the water handed to her from the guard on a silver platter.

“Are you purposely trying to drive the prince up the wall?”

“I have to keep myself entertained somehow,” she responded rather dryly. “Where is he anyway?”

Gibbs looked towards the entrance. 

The doors opened swiftly, the candles lining the perimeter of the grand room flickering with the sudden gust of wind. 

Two guards marched forward first, their badges gleaming on their thick winter coats. 

Behind them was a woman Mollie hadn’t seen in quite some time.

_Why was she here? Why did she come North?_

Her long red hair was pin straight and framing her attractive features. She wore a classic long sleeved full length black dress complete with towering heels. 

She looked so different from when Mollie last saw her, the makeup artfully applied to her face to make her appear so glamourous. There was something melancholic about her that Mollie pitied. 

_If she was here…did that mean…._

Mollie tensed, a phantom pain shooting through her legs as the man she most deeply loathed followed closely behind Jelena Lyon. 

He looked tall and handsome as he walked through the hall, exuding confidence. He wore black and silver, his dark hair pulled back sharply to display his cruel arrogant features. His cloak was jet black, the colour of solid carbon as it billowed behind him. His sword rested lightly against his hip, all formalities upheld. James Lyon had that self-serving glint in his eyes that made Mollie want to stick him with a dagger to the chest.

Mollie tensed when she saw the nobleman behind him, this one opting for an all- black attire and his stance no different from the man in front of him. Mollie felt her stomach roll when she saw him, his hair gelled and carefully styled to further pronounce his sharp jawline and elegant features. Contrary to his eldest brother, his expression was notefully disinterested, bored even, as if this event itself was the most underwhelming thing he possibly could have signed up for. His eyes caught the torchlight like two glimmering stones of jade and Mollie felt herself shiver. 

In fact, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from them and neither could the rest of the crowd. Immediately they were surrounded by a flood of guests in a frenzy of curtsies and speedy greetings in French and another language Mollie couldn’t quite recognize. 

James had a cunning smile on his face as his wife joined his arm while Micah stood on the other side his expression blank. 

An older man approached Micah and she watched as the prince turned his face to the side to acknowledge the introduction. He must have been an important figure to approach the princes so brazenly. Mollie watched the interaction wordlessly as James smiled at the man giving Micah a soft pat to the shoulder. 

The Lyons were incredible actors. Mollie would give them that. 

Micah remained placid and civil, not saying too much but nodding when needed to. 

“I didn’t think you had it in you to be so silent _fillette.”_

Mollie glowered at Gibbs, hating to have to tear her gaze away from the front of the ornate hall. 

“I have a name you know.”

 _“Oui,”_ he said rather bored. _“Mollie c’est vrai?_ Such a…bland name. The name of a commoner.”

Mollie could feel the irritation running through her and she shot Gibbs a wintry glare.

Mollie was too busy scanning the crowd to give a chiding remark back. She was looking for a petite little ice blonde haired girl. 

“Aren’t you on duty or something?” Mollie grumbled. 

Gibbs chuckled at her as he helped himself to a tray of champagne. Mollie did a double take as he sipped the beverage prompting another chuckle from the man.

“Not tonight,” he said with a grin.

Mollie scowled. 

“You don’t want a drink?” 

Mollie grimaced. She’d recalled the first time she had tried alcohol a little too vividly--the way Micah had pushed it from his lips to hers in that horrible dungeon beneath the manor.

“No thanks.”

 _“Pourquoi?”_ Gibbs said with a laugh. “You might as well enjoy the riches of royal life…while they last.”

“What’s your story?” she said suddenly turning towards the man. “And don’t give me that _I’m so loyal to the monarchy_ bullshit. I know that’s not true.”

Gibbs frowned at her and she didn’t miss how his eyes darkened at her frosty response.

“You are more rough around the edges than I first assumed,” he said with distaste.

Fellow guests of the event sauntered past them and Gibbs nodded his head at them as they passed by.

“Loyalty is earned Mollie. It’s not bestowed.”

Mollie tensed as he stepped closer to her.

He had his eyes on Micah who was speaking with an older high class woman. Mollie noticed the subtleties in Micah’s actions as he conversed with her. The way he turned his head to the side to show how much he valued what she had to say. The soft hand on her back, the charming smile. It was all so... _practiced._

“My brother and I were born into noble status,” Gibbs explained.

Mollie eyed him distastefully as he grabbed another glass of champagne from the platter.

“My brother, he’s a genius. Has one of the most elevated minds of this generation. There’s no doubt about it.”

Mollie had only been half listening before but news of his personal life finally warranted her undivided attention.

Gibbs continued speaking as he sipped from his glass, his eyes shadowing as he dipped into his past.

“We were comfortable working for the Lyons, our status allowing us relatively easy opportunity for promotions. But my brother…he was just too curious for his own good. Always asking questions, busying himself with things that were not his business. Always desperately seeking answers. I used to warn him all the time. But I guess a mind that brilliant cannot go unstimulated.”

Mollie sipped her water as she listened.

“It didn’t take long for someone to report to a higher official that my brother Quinn had been messing around with things that were not his business. You see the thing about my brother is that he was a peoples person. Could get a man to spill his life story in a matter of minutes. He just had that kind of personality. He’d befriend all types of people --people from his workplace --even random people he’d meet while traveling and returning to our hometown. God how he loved our hometown. Nothing more beautiful, that much I can tell you.”

Mollie stayed silent but she begged to differ. She knew hands down Riverton was the most picturesque place on the planet. But she let Gibbs continue.

“Anyway…Quinn had helped a small family take refuge in our hometown after fleeing persecution in their village. They came from the desert land, part of the Ophian empire.”

“Obsidian Land?” Mollie asked.

Gibbs paused before he answered her.

“I’m not sure. The Ophian empire is big, Obsidian Land is on the western tip, they could have been from the East for all I know…but that’s not important.”

He finished his second glass and Mollie bit her lip. 

“All was fine…until the people brought some special object along with them. They used to worship it, do it all. Rituals, folksongs, prayers – you name it. Used to scare the local people right out of their minds.”

Mollie tensed.

“I always admired Quinn for his intelligence, but sometimes I suppose his intelligence could transition quite often into eccentrics. He was all up in arms with the family. They convinced him that this object was the cure to all their problems. They used to call it _Souffle de vie._ They were convinced it had magical powers or something like that. Stole it from their hometown before they left. But I think they stole it and got banished. Ophians aren’t known for exiling their own people.”

“Wait,” Mollie interjected. “Did this object have a name?”

Gibbs sighed.

“That’s not the point of the story _fillette._ Listen and stop interrupting.”

Mollie frowned but stayed silent. 

“Quinn’s project with this thing turned into an obsession and he began to neglect his other duties, pouring all of his efforts into some folktale. It turned into such an obsession that he requested termination of his job with the monarchy.”

Gibbs sighed and Mollie could see this part of the story was difficult for him to re-visit.

“If there’s one thing you haven’t already figured out…it’s that you don’t get to choose when you start and finish with the Lyons. Their autonomy is far greater than our own. And Quinn learned that the hard way.”

Mollie felt her stomach flip hearing this. 

“They took him away. Locked him up in some tower indefinitely for attempting to fight his way out of his contract. And I’ve been working here ever since to free him. I’ll work till I drop dead if that means they'll release him.”

Mollie hesitated before she spoke. 

“Did they…Did they do that to your brother too?”

Gibbs looked at her, her vague question suddenly registering.

“Oh you mean this scar?”

Mollie felt rude for asking but it was too late to take it back.

“No. I got this protecting the princes from some rogue assassin years ago. Comes with the job I guess.”

He trailed off for a moment.

“I suppose it would be easy to distinguish my brother and I nowadays…we…are twins.”

“Oh.” Mollie said softly looking away. She didn’t want to stare. She had gotten used to seeing it on his face, but the topic still brought rapt attention towards it.

“We used to be identical. Haven’t seen him since they imprisoned him all those years ago.”

Mollie felt anger rise in her stomach as she listened to Gibbs. It appeared no person went unscathed within the Lyon regime. They sunk their claws into every bit of virgin soil and still managed to plow down their own people in the process.

Mollie wondered if Gibbs considered the fact that Quinn may have been killed but the fierceness of his tone suggested otherwise. In fact the next words out of his mouth addressed her thoughts directly.

“He’s alive. I can feel it. I know he is. It’s just a matter of finishing my contract before they set him free.”

“Micah would release him,” she said bluntly.

She didn’t know why she said this so confidently or why she believed it to be so true. But she knew. She knew he would if he was given the power to do so. Micah could be harsh, even savage when circumstances demanded it, but he was not inherently cruel. In fact, from what Mollie had deduced, he was actually quite diplomatic. Mollie knew this to be true. She knew it the day he kept her alive after she attempted to stab him.

Gibbs didn’t say anything but proceeded to just take another glass from the table and down it. The story seemed to have taken a lot out of him. 

The doors at the front of the hall opened again and Mollie felt the full blast of air hit her as frost and bits of snow filtered in and floated in the air. The chill hit her full force and she shivered, her joints aching. 

“Let me guess,” Gibbs drawled beside her. _“You_ chose your outfit tonight.”

Mollie rolled her eyes. 

She had turned her head back to the front, trying to catch some sight of Micah and James at the front of the hall to no avail. Micah hadn’t even looked her way yet. Did he know she was here?

“It’s more of a cloth isn’t it?” Gibbs continued in a judgmental tone. “I’d never let my wife be caught dead in an outfit like that, no matter how expensive the garment.”

Mollie seethed, the grip on her elegant goblet tightening. 

“It looks a bit small,” he continued. “Especially around the chest area.”

Mollie felt her thin film of civility break and she turned to Gibbs sharply. She knew it was more the alcohol than it was him being so crass but she still couldn’t curb her irritation.

“Are you done?” she snapped. “Or would you like more time to scrutinize my breasts? Might as well critique my ass while you’re at it.”

“Is that an open offer Miss Mayeson?”

That smooth deep voice punctured Mollie with its stark familiarity and she froze, the water in her goblet splashing over onto the blue icy floor. 

She turned to her left, her breath catching in her throat as Rowan stared deeply at her, his dark eyes glinting with disdain.

“Gibbs.” He said sharply, acknowledging the guard bedside Mollie. His eyes never left her as he did so and Mollie saw Gibbs bow and saunter away back into the crowd, a sly smile on his face.

“Rowan,” she breathed, his presence catching her off guard. She hadn’t seen him when the others had arrived and she should have known Rowan would find some way to slither himself into a room without being seen. 

“The one and only,” he said with a strained smile. 

He wore black and silver like James, his dark hair gelled flat to his head, the dark chestnut glimmering in the light.

He looked like a more cunning version of James -- his eyes more alive and his lips pulled into a perpetual smirk.

“What—what are you doing here?” she managed to say, her heart racing in her chest.

He ignored her. Instead his eyes roamed over her body, taking extra time to linger at her breasts.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight Miss Mayeson, the men simply can’t keep their eyes off of you,” he mused inching his two fingers up and down her exposed shoulder. "I daresay I'm _almost_ jealous." Mollie stiffened and shivered, his fingers cold like his brothers, even through the thick material of his gloves. “It would be foolish of me not to ask you for a dance.”

Mollie felt the blood drain from her face and she took one step back, her train making her stumble in her heels. 

Fluidly, Rowan grasped her arm snuggly in his and guided her towards the middle of the floor. 

“Do I have a choice?” she muttered as Rowan entwined his gloved hand with her own while his other rested lightly on her waist. 

“There’s always a choice Miss Mayeson.”

Mollie could feel many eyes begin to turn towards them and she wondered what Rowan was up to. She hadn’t forgotten the look on his face the last time she had seen him.

“You don’t have to force yourself to dance with me.” she said between gritted teeth as pleasant music began to fill the room. It ricocheted off the glassy interior creating a deeper more defined sound that permeated throughout the entire hall. “Especially considering how much you dislike me.”

Rowan laughed at her frigid response. 

“I have no qualms with you Mollie. Besides, what’s not to like?”

He brought her even closer…uncomfortably close and Mollie hesitated as his chest brushed her cheek and his strong cologne engulfed her senses. His scent smelled of frost along with something else she couldn’t quite place. It was foreign…but not unpleasant. She still preferred Micah's. 

Rowan certainly knew how to dance and he guided Mollie through the song, moving with lion-like grace and giving her the illusion that she knew how to move. His fingers glided over the tight material on her hips and she looked at him sternly as they moved lower and lower. His smile was mocking. 

“Why are you here Rowan?” she asked sharply as the music transitioned into something softer and more fluid.

“I thought a change of scenery would be nice,” he purred, his fingers inching dangerously close to her lower back.

“Right,” she scoffed. “No better scenery than snowstorms and temperatures of absolute zero.”

“Isn’t it?” He breathed giving her a waist a tight squeeze. “I’m glad to see we share the same delectable travel interests. It makes planning any future destinations a lot easier doesn’t it?”

Mollie ignored him, as he twirled her around, in sync with the orchestral sound surrounding them. 

She tried stealing glances to the side every now and then, but the only thing catching her eye were the faces of many strangers, their expressions a mix of disdain and curiosity.

“You are so tense Miss Mayeson,” Rowan said with an airy laugh as he swayed her body deftly with his. “Your eyes are wandering around the entire room. Whom do you seek? Perhaps I can be of help.”

She remembered vividly the last time she had asked Rowan for help and she knew it didn’t come without its baggage. 

Before Mollie could respond, her eye had caught Jelena Lyon in the far corner of the room. She stared at Mollie, her expression unfathomable. She held a thin glass of champagne in her hand but she seemed somewhere far away. 

“That woman,” Mollie said quietly her eyes flickering to the red headed woman. “I saw her the day I left Questershire. She seemed… upset about something.”

Upset was an understatement. The woman had seemed broken that day, but Mollie kept it straightforward. 

Rowan’s eyes followed her gaze before resting back on her own.

“Ah yes. Not an uncommon situation. Jelena struggles to bear children. Her body can’t seem to…take on the nine month burden.”

Mollie bit her lip. 

“That’s….that’s terrible. But at least she was able to have a child.”

“A daughter,” Rowan said distastefully. “Not incredibly useful from an economical standpoint.”

Mollie looked up at him completely insulted. 

“James isn’t happy she hasn’t given him a son,” he explained lowly bringing Mollie closer to him as the music began to come to a close. “And James isn’t the patient kind, if you catch my drift.”

Mollie suddenly looked back at the stage where she had a clear view of James Lyon from her position. Mollie figured he must have been a replica of Hartley at that age with those same hard features and snakelike qualities. He was conversing with some noblewomen who had gathered around him. He basked in the attention, she could tell. 

“May I intrude?”

That dark alluring voice of familiarity pierced through Mollie and she suddenly felt heat flood her cheeks as she turned towards the source.

Micah was standing in front of them, his hands behind his back and his expression showing poorly concealed irritation. 

“Rowan,” he said stiffly giving him a chilling stare.

“Ah Micah,” Rowan said with a smile running his hands tightly along Mollie’s back. She squirmed at the foreign touch, her arms immediately dropping from around Rowan’s shoulders. “I was teaching Miss Mayeson the art of _Le Baroque,”_ he paused for a moment, dark eyes flickering over her lithe figure. “I’ve never quite had a partner who could keep up,” he mused. “Must be those long legs.”

Rowan flashed her a flirtatious smile as Micah gripped her arm tightly. The contact of his chilled skin against her blazing flesh made her shiver as he eyed his brother coldly. He gripped her arm hard, his fingers biting into her wrist.

“Ow!” Mollie protested twisting her wrist in pain.

Micah’s eyes flashed to hers and she could see the blatant fury in eyes. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said icily, his grip tightening. 

“He danced with _me,”_ Mollie replied tersely. “He didn’t even give me a chance-”

“That’s irrelevant,” he interjected. “I meant what are you doing in that _outfit.”_

Mollie tugged her wrist from his grip and glared at him.

“I can choose my own clothes Micah,” she said sharply. 

Mollie could see the flush in Micah’s cheeks deepen as a well dressed man approached them, his demeanour cool but professional.

“Prince,” he said with acknowledgment. His eyes scanned Mollie and she saw his lip curl slightly. _“Mademoiselle.”_

Micah’s face went blank the moment the man approached them but Mollie could see through the mask…she could see the unhinged rage in his eyes directed at her.

_“Le roi a demandé à vous recontrer dans la Cour.”*_

Micah turned his head ever so slightly but Mollie could tell he was pulling every last nerve to maintain his cool.

“In a moment,” Micah said shortly. 

_“Non. Tout de suite.”_

Mollie watched the exchange apprehensively. She could feel the tension through the air as the guard placed a soft hand on the prince’s shoulder before walking brusquely back into the crowd of guests.

Micah had stilled for a long time, and Mollie cringed as he slowly regained his bearings and pulled her off to the side. 

To Mollie’s dismay he marched her straight across the grand room, past his guest of nobles and out through the large doors into the frigid foyer. The cold hit her like a brick wall and she nearly stumbled as he harshly tugged her around a corner.

Mollie could already feel the anger radiating off of him and her previously emboldened exterior began to crumble quickly.

“Are you _trying_ to demean me? Is that your goal?”

His voice shook with anger and Mollie cowered against the cold wall. 

His cheeks were flushed and his quick strides had loosened a curl or two from his carefully combed hair. In spite of the ferocity in his glare he was still so utterly sublime and the jet black shirt against his pale skin made him seem that much more ethereal. 

“I’m-I’m sorry,” Mollie stammered. 

“Don’t apologize,” he snapped. 

His cold hand wrapped around her throat and Mollie cringed, flashbacks of the last time he had done that going through her mind. He seemed to think better of it for a moment and consequently dropped his hand to his side. 

Mollie could see the agitation in his demeanour. He seemed…surprisingly nervous. Mollie wondered if she was the sole cause for his discomfort.

Micah sighed heavily and Mollie watched as his eyes flickered back to her. 

“Go cover yourself,” he said warily. “Before you freeze to death.”

Now Mollie was the one to sigh in relief. Mollie figured whatever was occupying Micah’s mind was enough for him to let her go unscathed in spite of her failure to obey. 

“Leaving so soon?”

Mollie felt a horrible chill rack through her spine and she involuntarily took a step closer to Micah when she saw who had appeared around the corner.

James stood far away from the two of them, his dark eyes glittering as he watched their exchange in silence. His height blocked out the little bit of light filtering in through the hall and Mollie felt sick knowing how broad, burly, and dangerous he was even _without_ the weapon that was slung loosely on his waist. 

“The night is still young. After all this event is in your honour Micah.”

Micah turned towards his brother, his stance immediately stiffening. Mollie felt a sudden pang of fear for him as James strode closer to them.

Micah looked so fragile in front of the eldest prince. His lean frame was no match for the wide overbearing figure in front of them. 

Mollie knew in a game of strength who would win, but she doubted James would be the one to dominate in a game of wits.

That was Micah’s territory.

“I’m requested elsewhere,” Micah said brusquely. Mollie didn’t miss how he subtly moved in front of Mollie. The girl would take anything to keep as far away from James Lyon as humanly possible.

“Ah,” James said as if in understanding. Mollie felt her skin prickle at the cunning smile on his face. “I stand corrected.”

Mollie wasn’t sure what he was referring to but she didn’t like his uncannily jovial nature. It was uncharacteristic in more ways than one.

“I never quite got a… _proper_ introduction to your leading lady baby brother. But things seem to be progressing quite nicely.”

He chuckled amusedly to himself as Micah stayed silent. His eyes flickered over to Mollie.

“Mollie isn’t it?”

His deep voice filtered into something more breathless towards the end.

“I never thought you’d be the one to find yourself a woman Micah…how very… _soft_ of you.”

The tension between the two of them was as icy as the walls around them and Mollie kept her gaze glued to the floor.

“He’s quite the charmer you know?” James said with a smile addressing Mollie directly. The false affectionate lilt to his tone made Mollie’s skin prickle with unease. “Always got a woman on his arm. It takes a special kind of man to be so in sync with a woman, wouldn’t you agree?”

The silence that ensued was stifling and Mollie shifted, the cold suddenly seeping into her bones.

“Let’s get you back to your chambers,” Micah said quietly.

His grip on Mollie never loosened and she shadowed him closely as they stepped around the eldest Lyon to reach the main hallway.

“Oh and Micah,” James called out twisting over his shoulder. “I look forward to your little speech. Let’s hope you’re a bit more convincing this time.”

With that he turned around and walked back into the chilly hall, the sound of music and chatter reaching Mollie’s ears.

“Micah-“

He cut her off and motioned for someone behind her to come forward.

She jumped when Cécily appeared meekly behind them. She looked like she had been crying and Mollie suddenly felt guilt fill her.

“Take her upstairs,” Micah snapped. 

He didn’t yell at her, but Mollie could tell he was steaming. She dreaded what was to come.

***

Jelena had seen her before. She was convinced, she just couldn’t quite recall the exact moment.

Jelena knew every guest in this hall from the oldest gentleman to the young naïve female prospects hoping to snag the middle Lyon for themselves. He was notefully the only single one left anyway. 

Jelena frowned when she saw him in the middle of the dance floor, his arms wrapped around a thin statuesque girl in a skimpy emerald green gown. 

Jelena narrowed her eyes, and watched her closely. The girl was awkward, her sharp eyes could tell from her clumsy steps. As they turned in the middle of the floor Jelena caught sight of her face and she tensed.

She was…beautiful. Not that typical modern beauty. That simple sort of natural unaware beauty.

Jelena zeroed in on her, especially the way the girls jaw clenched when she spoke to Prince Rowan. 

Jelena couldn’t stand her eldest brother in law.

He didn’t give her the time of the day, not since the first day she had met him and she dutifully spent the years ignoring him right back. Even so, she was surprised to see the girl addressing Rowan in such an impertinent manner.

Jelena would never get away with something like that, not even to her own husband despite her own royal status. From the chatter surrounding her, Jelena had heard fleeting whispers of the girl being a concubine. Jelena figured it was better than being a slave, but it still didn’t allow for such brazen behaviour. She was curious.

Jelena’s eyes flickered to her youngest brother-in-law at the front of the hall who looked typically irritated. Although that was signature of Prince Micah, he seemed especially stiff. He was staring hard at something, his expression on the brink of anger. Jelena followed his gaze to Rowan and the concubine twirling on the dance floor, both of whom seemed to be enjoying each others company. 

Jelena didn’t mind Micah. He never spoke to her much, but when he did he was always cordial. She liked that about him. Not that she’d have had much of an opportunity to speak to him much anyway. Micah never came to court. Not willingly at least. 

Jelena suddenly tensed when the girl in the middle of the dance floor locked eyes with her. Her light brown irises met Jelena’s own blue ones before they quickly dropped and returned to her partner.

People were openly staring, but the girl didn’t seem to care all that much. 

Jelena envied that quality.

She had always been taught to care, after all, how she carried herself out was of paramount importance to her status. 

Maybe the girl was young and still had much to learn. To Jelena, she looked around seventeen, but then again Jelena had no idea where these slaves and concubines even came from or how they were reared and brought to the castle. She just knew they made the Lyons a substantial amount of money.

James re-appeared after a moment, his shoulder brushing her own as he stood beside her.

“James.” 

She acknowledged her husbands presence with a curtsey. 

He ignored her, his eyes on the girl in the middle of the dance floor, like everyone else in the hall.

“Who is that?” Jelena murmured inching her head forward. 

Her husband didn’t even turn to look at her.

“I swear I’ve seen her before somewhere…but I can’t quite recall.”

“Her,” James breathed watching them closely. 

Jelena looked at James closely. He looked frustrated, his expression parallel to Micah who had suddenly approached the two in the middle of the floor. The girl looked put out again. Her thick eyebrows were furrowed in anger and her lips had turned into a frown as she twisted her arm in the prince’s grasp.

She had never seen such a display of insolence in front of guests of such respected stature and she followed the two them out of the hall with her eyes. The girl was lucky the king himself was not present. She didn’t even want to think-

“I’ll see you tonight,” James murmured before leaving her side almost as swiftly as he arrived beside her. She too followed his steps with her eyes out of the hall and past the large doors.

Jelena had been dreading this night for a long long time. She had run her tear ducts dry weeks ago and she just prayed the King took pity on her. She knew this was beyond James, not that he’d help her even if he had the power to do so. But still, she prayed with every fibre of her being that the King was merciful tonight.

***

Jelena stood at the back of the chilly throne room. She was always a spectator during these meetings, but she had a funny feeling about tonight.

Hartley sat in his throne on an elevated platform in his court in _Icedalar,_ his cold blank eyes staring at nothing and everything at once. 

The courts in the North always seemed more threatening and dangerous than the courts in the South and the West. Jelena hated it. 

The soft sound of leather on tile filled the room and the doors gradually opened revealing two figures in black.

Rowan and James arrived at the same time, their long strides echoing across the cold landing. They each bowed gracefully before their father on one knee before rising to their full heights and standing below the platform where their father sat. 

“James. Rowan.”

Hartley’s voice was always so powerful and strong, even when he was speaking softly. Jelena never thought such a feat was possible until she had met him. 

Hartley had arranged the marriage between herself and James. Although this was the case, she had never spoken to Hartley one on one. Only within the context of a dinner setting or some fancy event. Jelena preferred this. She was terrified of him and she had a feeling he knew this. Even at his age he was still quite a looker and Jelena wondered how someone so evil could look so painfully beautiful. 

There was a silence that followed after Hartley’s sons had taken their places across the throne from where their father sat. Jelena didn’t make eye contact with her husband. She didn’t make eye contact with anybody. It was safer that way. Maybe if she survived this meeting without making eye contact with anyone the King may just move on and her involvement would be close to null. 

The door opened and another figure entered the room; the icy air filling the spacious room to reach every corner and crevice in its wake.

“My precious precious boy.”

Hartley’s voice took on that gentle lilt that made Jelena’s skin tingle. 

Micah sunk to one knee as he addressed his father before he too joined his brothers across from his father’s elevated platform.

Jelena could already feel James’ sour mood from here. It was the last thing she wanted to deal with on an already stressful day for herself, but court proceedings always made James hotheaded. Hartley’s overt favouritism of Micah always pushed James to the edge and she knew he yearned for his father’s approval. She gave up trying to convince him to channel his efforts elsewhere. She now knew better than to advise her husband on his personal affairs. 

She wouldn’t dare try to do so ever again.

“What caused such a delay in your return? I had worried my shipment may have been intercepted.”

Hartley lounged in his chair, his rings glistening as his depthless eyes, appearing almost black in the chilly room, zeroed in on his son.

Micah stood up coolly, his all-black outfit a stark contrast against the snowy backdrop.

“The goods were delivered on time. It was the treacherous passage through the mountains that caused the delay.”

“The _Appeley Mountains?”_ Hartley smiled. “I do hope you sent my regards to _Monsieur Marchesseault?”_

Hartley tapped his fingers against the gold and emerald plated sceptre that rested in his left hand. His voice was still soft and lulling but Jelena could hear the hint of impatience beneath those layers of false cordiality. 

Micah nodded.

“He’s not well my King. His condition worsens everyday. It will reach a point where even basic handheld mobility will become compromised.”

“I need his mind not his hands dear boy,” Hartley murmured with a dismissive wave. 

“I disagree,” Micah said smoothly addressing his father. “I’ve seen the work he’s done this far. His dexterity is unparalleled. The nature of his work is volatile, it would be unreasonable to entrust anyone else with such a delicate task --the material itself is too valuable to risk.”

“If I may my King?”

Rowan stood beside his brother, his hands behind his back. 

Hartley turned his cold gaze to him.

“Further efforts put forth into this project are useless if our supply of the material is already limited. The sooner we acquire more iridium the sooner we can allocate more resources into this project. Only then do we worry about how exactly iridium will be manipulated to our needs and _who_ will do so.”

Micah shot his brother an irritated look. 

“Why is this taking so long Micah? Tell me…why are you delaying the inevitable? Your jaded reliance on my ignorance to time is growing stale.”

Rowan turned to Micah, the frown on his face deepening.

“Perhaps Micah is a bit pre-occupied with other matters.”

The King was staring at his youngest son, his expression unfathomable.

“Is this true Micah?”

Hartley’s voice never wavered in spite of his question.

Micah remained silent, his face void of emotion. 

Jelena watched the court proceedings from her position and she grappled with the icy exchange between the brothers. Usually at least one of them got along during court. Today it seemed as if all three of them had their daggers brandished at each others throats. 

“What do you think of your brother’s elusivity James? Is Micah as distracted as Rowan claims?”

James stepped forward, his cloak billowing behind him.

“I worry for him my King. He spends more time with his concubine these days than he does in court.”

Jelena wasn’t really sure what she expected from Hartley. He was too indecipherable of a man. But she certainly didn’t expect him to laugh at James’ comment in the manner he did. It was unsettling but Jelena watched as the King’s dry laughs faded quickly and a chilling snake like expression crossed his features.

“I’d _hardly_ call that a distraction James. Micah is becoming a man now. There’s no shame in that, even if there was a slight delay in reaching that milestone.”

His eyes suddenly flickered over to Jelena and she felt herself begin to perspire.

“How _is_ my little one doing? You know I have been waiting long and hard for a grandson.”

The silence that followed was as stiff and as unyielding as the snow capped mountains beyond the borders of _Icedalar_ and Jelena felt a bottomless fear fill her gut. 

Rowan and Micah had stepped back against the adjacent wall leaving James in the centre of the court space alone.

James hesitated and Jelena felt her skin flame even more as Hartley’s congenial smile went stale.

“Ah… I see.”

Jelena had closed her eyes at this point. She didn’t want to see the look on Hartley’s face when he turned to her. She was useless to him now, and the few traces of acknowledgment he had given her these last few months had just vanished in that moment.

She remembered how falsely gracious he had been towards her when she was pregnant with Nina. At the time, they were convinced she’d birth a son. She remembered how quickly he left the room after the midwives revealed it had been a girl. Jelena had never felt so sickened in her life.

“You never fail to disappoint me James.”

Hartley stood up from his throne and made his way down to the floor, taking his time to swipe his ringed fingers against the frost covered railings. He stopped in front of his eldest son, his head tilted to the side. His fingers rotated around the sharp ragged sceptre in his grip.

“Kneel.”

Jelena gripped the railing behind her. The frost that had built up upon the metal burned her palms with its frigid sheen and she channelled her mind towards the sensation. 

She closed her eyes, for once welcoming the oncoming pain. 

***

Mollie writhed in her sleep. 

She was having another one of those dreams again. The one where she was surrounded by a glacial cave with a single fire burning in the centre of the cavern while somehow fighting her way through a mountain of snow. The chill of winter seeped into her exposed skin while simultaneously, the heat from the fire seeped against the lower half of her body, inching its red flames further and further up her legs until it penetrated through her folds. 

This time the fire spread along her thighs, the red tips of the flame wrapping its heat around her flesh before flickering to pale white. It shot through her and sent her screaming up into the snow haze above her. 

Mollie gasped as she jerked upwards. Her thick curls were plastered to her forehead from cold sweat and her legs were tangled in the white sheets of the massive bed. Her eyes immediately shot towards the window where she saw a dark sky specked with dots of silver. It must have still been quite early in the morning. 

Mollie managed to catch her breath and quickly she brought her hand towards her forehead to wipe the sweat from her brow. She felt a different wetness swipe her cheek as she swiped her fingers against it. Something sticky....had she...

“Enjoyed yourself did you?”

The soft murmur nearly made Mollie’s heart stop and she immediately turned her head towards the desk on the opposite side of the room. 

Micah was sitting there, book in hand. He had a soft smirk on his face, as if he were enjoying some inside joke and Mollie felt her face flame. 

She dropped her hand from her face and bunched her fingers in the thick sheets around her. She had never done such a thing in her life. Never. 

She narrowed her eyes at the prince accusingly and decided to ignore his question. 

“Why are you still up?”

Her voice was husky and thick with sleep but she managed to say it clear enough. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said softly, pausing to turn a page in his book. She shivered as his green eyes met hers. “It was unusually noisy in this room tonight.”

Mollie didn’t miss the hidden meaning behind his words but she didn’t know whether to sink back under the covers in shame or bitingly reply. 

“Well shows over,” she grumbled turning over so she was no longer facing the prince. 

“Pity,” she heard him murmur. 

Mollie attempted to close her eyes, waiting for sleep to pull her back under. But Mollie found herself too awake to sink back into sleep. She was still half expecting him to punish her…or yell at her about what happened earlier. But he didn’t bring it up. 

Quickly she threw the duvet back and pulled the sheet up over her long sleeved tunic. 

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” she murmured bunching her hair around her shoulder.

Micah hadn’t moved and she watched as he twirled a thin pencil in his left hand. His eyes were trained on the page in front of him.

“I was…preoccupied.”

“Care to share?” she murmured, feeling a sudden boost of confidence.

Micah met her gaze, his expression placid.

“Not tonight.”

Mollie watched as he tossed the book onto the table and brushed a hand through his thick curls.

“You must think you're very brave don't you?”

Mollie froze. She had thought too soon. He _hadn’t_ dropped the subject.

“To flaunt yourself like that…in front of all my guests. Do you understand that those people are noblemen and noblewomen? How am I supposed to make you decent if you keep brandishing yourself like that?”

“Like what?” she said with a frown. “I’m sorry… was that the wrong occasion to wear that dress? Should I have worn it to a _family_ dinner instead? Behind closed doors.”

The hypocrisy of his comment bothered her and she _hated_ how righteous Micah wanted to be when a situation demanded it. 

“Don’t start with me Mollie,” he said with a frown. “I don’t have the energy to fight with you tonight.”

She sighed. 

Micah seemed more pale than usual. She had been too busy arguing with him before to look at him. _Really_ look at him and she suddenly felt bad. He seemed exhausted. Mollie knew how much energy was expended traveling to and from this horrible place.

“I wasn’t…I didn’t mean to anger you,” she murmured tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I just...I guess I wanted to make some choices for myself you know? I’m not used to following orders.” 

Her explanation sounded weak even to her…and she looked away.

Micah suddenly lowered himself on to the bed. His arms caged her in as his rich cologne engulfed her senses. She felt her skin prickle with goosebumps as the scent went straight to her head.

She shivered as he loomed over her, his pale eyes drinking in her flushed cheeks and hard bitten lips.

“I’m not angry with you,” he said softly, catching her chin before she could turn it away. “I just…worry that’s all. I’ve never…I’ve never felt the need to worry about someone in the past.”

Mollie clenched her jaw as Micah’s fingers moved from her cheek to her collarbone.

“You never worried that much about me before.” Mollie challenged with a raised eyebrow. “Why the sudden change in attitude?”

Micah laughed. The sound reverberated around the room.

“Mollie Mae,” he said lovingly, his thumb moving back up to brush along her cheek. Mollie noticed he did that a lot. It was an interesting form of affection. It made her feel like his pet more than anything. “You’re cynicism is truly boundless. You could have all the riches at your fingertips and you'd still be unsatisfied.”

Mollie rolled her eyes.

His fingers suddenly went down across her chin and further between her collarbones to the centre of her chest. 

She tensed as his finger circled a nipple through her thin tunic, the ripe bud hardening in response to the stimulation.

“You’re not keeping me around for show or for a good fuck Micah. That much I know.”

This seemed to catch his attention and Mollie felt rather than heard him stiffen.

“Watch that tone Mollie.”

The sharpness of his voice was enough of an indication for Mollie to humble and she sighed and dropped her gaze to the tangled sheets around them. She hated how easily he was able to subdue her. It exacerbated her submissiveness and Mollie couldn’t stand it. 

She jerked as he gave her nipple a hard pinch before pushing himself up and off the bed. The action left her nipple aching with a lingering pain and she scowled as he elegantly picked up his coat off the side table before heading towards the doors of her chamber.

“Where are you going?” she blurted. She hated how domineering he was even in a state of blatant exhaustion.

“Out,” he said coldly. “Why? Did you want a good fuck first?”

Mollie frowned as he left the room promptly. The lock clicked into place loudly and echoed around the cold spacious quarters.

His mood was as sour as hers and she bit her lip. The nerves in her breast were still firing from his harsh treatment.

Mollie sat in the middle of the bed, hot, wanting, and deeply unsatisfied as cool pinpricks of sweat accumulated on her forehead. 

_Let him go_

She didn’t need him to satisfy her. Hell, she didn’t need anybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. The big 3-0. I did not think this story would reach chapter 30. It was a year ago from today where the idea for Iridium began to settle in my mind. This is crazy. Thank you so much for everyone who has continued reading this far. I love you guys <3 
> 
> Translations in Order:
> 
> The King has requested your presence in Court.


	31. Gallium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie grows increasingly suspicious of her participation in Lyon politics and vows to get to the bottom of it.

“Where is this place?”

Cécily had taken Mollie to another part of the fortress she’d never seen before. It was darker here, but more shielded from the elements in comparison to other parts of the building.

Mollie wore her yellow cloak atop a pale yellow dress as Cécily guided her through the _château._ The cloak was quickly becoming a staple article of clothing for Mollie and she liked running her fingers over the _I.L_ engraved along the interior lining.

When Cécily pushed open the two double doors in front of them Mollie felt her heart jump to her throat. 

It had been so long. So _long_ since she’d seen a room like the one in front of her.

Mollie inhaled the familiar scent of a burning woodstove fire along with the delectable scents of sweets, spices, and warm fresh bread.

The kitchen was empty with clean utensils and fresh ingredients lining the pristine cupboards beside the fully stocked pantry.

It was truly a bakers dream. 

Mollie felt her heart ache as she stepped into the room. She had been away from her bakery for so long and as she closed her eyes she almost imagined she were back there. If she closed her eyes she could imagine Phoebe rummaging in the back pantry as usual, Thom barking orders into the mic as he set about packaging their fresh baked goods. It made her throat constrict and Mollie breathed deeply trying not to let Cécily see how much just being here affected her.

“It is a rather slow day. There are no events scheduled so the kitchen is all yours to enjoy _Mademoiselle.”_

Mollie looked at her in shock.

“Really?”

She hoped it wasn’t some cruel joke the Lyons had orchestrated. Cécily smiled and nodded. 

She bowed before she left closing the doors behind Mollie.

There was only one door to enter and leave the cosy kitchen but Mollie was content. She had no intention of leaving anyway, not when there was a full pantry and the freshest ingredients she had ever seen right within her grasp. There were floor length windows here and Mollie figured they were on the main floor. The airy snowy landscape for once looked beautiful in the distance and Mollie figured this was the royal kitchen. 

Never did she think she’d ever have an opportunity to bake in luxury. 

Mollie wasted no time deciding on a dish and sinking her hands into the ingredients in front of her.

She knew what she was going to make. She made a mental note to thank Cécily again when she returned to her. Mollie didn’t have any expectations when she first met the modest girl, but Mollie quickly realized she was not like the others. She was kind and hardworking and tried her best to make Mollie feel at home and Mollie was eternally grateful. 

Without further a due, she got the fire going and delved straight into work.

***

Mollie must have spent the entire day in the kitchen, yet to her it felt like only an hour or two.

She had tossed her hair into a curly messy bun so several loose curls fell to frame her face as she brushed a drop of sweat from her brow with her shoulder. She had hung her yellow cloak on a peg in the wall and sauntered around the kitchen in her pale yellow dress from one oven to the next.

Mollie figured she might have outdone herself…just a little bit.

She must have made 8 different flavour of macarons on top of the éclairs, the brioche and the petit fours along with fresh savoury bread. 

She realized quickly that this was a significant amount of food and she wasn’t actually sure what or whom she was baking for, but it didn’t matter. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it, how much she craved being around the kitchen. 

Mollie had been so pre-occupied piping her last batch of macarons she didn’t hear the kitchen door open and close. 

Only when she had finished and slid her baking sheet into the oven did she realize someone else was in the room.

Mollie froze, the sudden presence breaking her concentration. 

“I’m sorry,” said a quiet voice with a thick French accent. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Mollie didn’t say anything as the tall red headed women stepped further into the room closing the kitchen doors behind her with a soft click.

She paused as she looked at Mollie and the array of dishes that lined the table. She seemed taken aback for a moment. 

“Did you make all of this?”

She sounded shocked and Mollie shifted uncomfortably. She knew who this woman was and Mollie didn’t trust her.

Mollie nodded stiffly.

 _“Mon dieu,”_ she murmured. 

If Mollie had imagined one of the expensive porcelain dolls from the lavish toy store three blocks down from her bakery in Chartery came to life --she’d believe it would have been an exact replica of Jelena Lyon. 

The woman was so elegant, in a beautiful airy floor length plum coloured gown. It was so different from the shorter yellow dress Mollie had decided to wear. Then again, they were from totally different worlds.

Jelena tucked a strand of her long red hair behind her ear and looked at Mollie. 

“I believe you must have the entire fortress salivating at this point,” she said with a soft smile. “The entire place smells like a bakery.”

Mollie dropped her gaze and turned her attention back to her baking, trying to ignore the fact that she now had company. 

Jelena hesitated as Mollie busied herself again. Mollie couldn’t really care if she was disobeying royal protocol or not by turning her back on the woman. Anyone affiliated with James Lyon was an enemy to her. 

“This must be…difficult for you. I can’t even imagine.”

Mollie ignored her. She had been moody recently, abnormally moody and she’d already had to apologize several times to Cécily these past few days after getting short with her for simple matters. She had to watch herself this time. She couldn’t make enemies with the immediate princess of the Lyon monarchy. 

Mollie just shrugged channelling her focus on taking her macarons out of the oven. 

“My daughter loves macarons,” Jelena murmured admiring the different colours that lined the enormous island in the middle of the kitchen. “She’d simply adore these.”

Mollie sighed removing her apron and dusting the flour that had spread along her dress. She felt like a mess next to the polished woman standing in front of her. 

“Can I offer you a cup of tea? You’ve been working all day.”

Mollie couldn’t help but laugh humourlessly at the comment.

“I’d hardly call this work.” Mollie hesitated as Jelena’s face dropped slightly. “Plus, I don’t think royals are supposed to be mixing with… commoners.”

Jelena looked at her for a moment, her sharp eyes showing a sudden streak of rebellion. 

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Mollie raised an eyebrow shuffling forward to grab her cloak.

She was on her guard but from what she could tell, Jelena seemed just as tense as she did. She must be desperately lonely to want to spend time with Mollie…or spying for her husband. Mollie assumed it was the latter. 

“I won’t. But I don’t trust that you won’t,” Mollie said sternly flipping her hood over her head. 

“Good,” Jelena said with a tight smile. “Then we are on even ground. Now let’s get going before the men return. A man on the lookout for his woman always assumes the worst.”

Jelena turned elegantly and glided out of the room. Mollie stood and observed her for a moment. She was debating whether to let her go and remain in the kitchen until Cécily returned. She felt heavily conflicted. 

With a sigh she grabbed her cloak and followed behind the red headed woman closing the kitchen door softly behind her. 

The chilliness enveloped Mollie as she followed Jelena down the hall and around the corner to a small parlour. 

The room was covered in a light layer of fluffy snow and was several degrees colder than the corridor outside. 

Jelena wasted no time lighting the candles around the room before dusting the light layer of snow off the table in front of them. She motioned for Mollie to sit and reluctantly Mollie obliged.

The silence between them was long as Jelena fiddled with the teapot and aged porcelain cups in the corner. Mollie could immediately tell the woman was out of her comfort zone and she got up taking the initiative herself.

“Sit,” Mollie said, more forcefully than she intended.

Jelena paused as Mollie stepped in front of her to take charge of boiling the kettle and arranging the tea.

Mollie knew the rich had servants to do this for them, but she couldn’t quite understand how a woman of Jelena’s age and supposedly superior knowledge could not understand how to properly arrange a simple tea.

Wordlessly, Mollie returned setting the delicate china in front of them on the table as Jelena sat quietly across from her. Her thin elegant hands were soft, Mollie could tell. They were hands that didn’t know the meaning of work.

Mollie slid in across from her and began pouring the tea. She had opted for jasmine -- a flavour that teetered on secondary status. It didn’t feel right for Mollie to choose something exorbitant. Not for this occasion.

 _“Merci,”_ Jelena murmured taking a sip.

Mollie stared at her. She tried her best to look neutral. She recalled in that moment how often Phoebe teased her about her less than friendly ambiance. She was obviously still working on it.

“I..I saw you the other day…during my youngest brother-in-law’s formal reception.”

Mollie tensed. 

“I’m going to be honest,” she said with a dainty laugh. “Micah doesn’t react much to anything. He’s a very…internalized person.”

“I know,” Mollie replied shortly.

Jelena smiled. 

“Yes I suppose you do.”

She sipped her tea. Mollie averted her gaze, the silence was quickly becoming awkward.

“How rude of me,” she said suddenly tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’m Jelena by the way. Jelena Lyon. My husband is current leader of the West.”

“I know,” Mollie repeated rather dryly. “I know who you are.”

Jelena shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Mollie’s chilly exterior was certainly not going unnoticed.

“So what do you want to know about me?” Mollie asked pushing her untouched tea away from her. “My name? What I’m doing here? My position? My status?”

She didn’t know why she spat the last word out. She was so used to the lip curling, the disgust, the antipathy that came with being a primary citizen. She assumed all of these rich folk must want to know at some point and she might as well cut straight to the chase.

Jelena was quiet. She didn’t react too much to Mollie’s bluntness. Rather, she seemed quite accustomed to it. 

“I reckoned you maybe just wanted a woman to talk to,” Jelena said with a frown. “I know what it’s like to be alone in this place for months. It drives you insane. I wouldn’t want another to suffer the way I did.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Mollie said. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m sure you understand my situation completely.”

Jelena sighed. 

“Look _princess,”_ Mollie said with a sigh. “I’m not interested-“

“I’m pregnant.”

Mollie stopped short, the confession startling her.

Jelena had tears shining in her eyes as she looked at Mollie and the girl froze, unsure of how to react.

Mollie opened her mouth and closed it a couple times before she regained her bearings. 

“I…” Mollie trailed off. She was completely baffled. “Does…does your husband know?”

“Not yet,” she murmured placing a delicate hand on her belly. “It’s too early to say anything. I don’t want to tell him until I’m absolutely sure.”

Mollie swallowed uneasily. 

“Erm...congratulations,” Mollie muttered tucking her wild curls behind her ears. “I’m sure he’ll be very happy.”

“I had a scare a couple of weeks ago,” Jelena said quietly. “I thought I was having another miscarriage. It’s happened so many times I thought surely it was another.” 

She paused taking a sip from her tea as Mollie sat mutely in front of her.

“James…my husband…he will be happy. I just hope it’s a boy this time. My eldest is a girl. It would be nice to have one of each you know?”

Mollie twisted her cloak in her fingers as she listened to Jelena’s musings. 

“I suppose. I guess your son would be next in line for the throne.” 

Jelena smiled to herself. Mollie gauged her reaction carefully.

“In the West he would automatically be as James is current leader. But His Grace has control of the South and still maintains control of the entire Lyon fortune.” 

Mollie paused.

“I thought Micah did as CEO of trade.”

Jelena laughed.

“Heavens no. The king won’t give up his empire until he passes away…” now Jelena was the one to pause as she hesitated across from Mollie. “His Grace pledged to leave this amassed fortune as well as his dominion over the South to his first grandson. It is his wish.”

Mollie stiffened when she heard this. No wonder James wanted a son so badly. He wanted control over as much Lyon land as he could manage. With him ruling the West, and his potential son being primed to rule the South, it would be fairly easy to take over the rest of the land for himself. 

The South was abundant in fertility and population, it was the most sought after region in the entire Lyon empire which was why Hartley was so adamant to part with his position of power there. 

“I guess nobody was exactly enthusiastic to claim ownership in the North,” Mollie said dryly looking outside the window next to them. 

Jelena laughed. 

“It’s strange,” she added tucking a fiery strand of hair behind her ear. “His Grace always preferred to spend his days in the North despite being ruler of the South. I would think the weather here would be such a major turn off.”

Mollie perked up when she heard this.

“How often does Hartley come North?”

Jelena squeaked in fear when she heard Mollie’s question. The girl jumped as Jelena’s face paled and her lips went white.

“You call him by his first name so brazenly,” she whispered. “You do know that’s punishable if you’re heard.”

Mollie stifled an eyeroll.

“No one is here right now princess. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

The woman seemed genuinely afraid of him and Mollie found it odd. She obviously didn’t have a healthy relationship with her father in law…if she even really had one with him at all. 

Mollie leaned in closer.

“Strange isn’t it? He spends most of his days dangling the enticing Southern rule in front of his sons, but barely spends anytime there. Instead he sits here, in this cursed land that he made his _youngest_ son ruler of.”

Jelena blinked at her. 

“Your husband wasn’t happy about it you know?” Mollie said with a raised eyebrow. “He didn’t want Micah coming up to the North alone.”

Jelena suddenly flushed and she narrowed her eyes at Mollie.

“How do you know this?”

Mollie stirred her now cold tea, her eyes flickering back to Jelena’s.

“I was at the meeting. The meeting _Sir_ Hartley had with Micah, Rowan and your husband.”

“You’re lying.” 

Jelena’s delicate features suddenly twisted into something animalistic and Mollie braced herself.

“You would never have been invited-“

“Cut the nice guy act _princess. _You know what’s going on as well I do,” Mollie whipped out. “There’s something in this place, something everyone is desperate for yet absolutely terrified of and I think you what it is.”__

____

____

Jelena huffed, her cheeks pinkening even more.

 _“Quelle bêtise me dites-vous!”_ she responded. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

The woman looked shaken and Mollie inched herself backward on her seat, her movement making the woman recoil once again.

_Was she playing her?_

Jelena looked horrified and Mollie suddenly doubted herself. Was the woman really this clueless?

“Do you not ask your husband about his work?” Mollie asked baffled. “Are you not the slightest bit interested?”

Jelena looked up at her from beneath her mascara thickened lashes and sighed. 

“I used to try in the past. But James prefers I do not interfere. He says it is indecent of me to meddle in his affairs.”

Mollie couldn’t say she was surprised, however Jelena’s acquiescent personality certainly surprised her somewhat. She knew of female rulers outside the Lyon regime with grossly successful empires of their own. What made the Lyons decide it was unbecoming of a woman to immerse herself in the world of politics? Mollie felt her blood boil.

The woman really was clueless and Mollie suddenly felt bad for caging her in and accusing her of feigning ignorance. 

“I’m…I’m sorry to hear that,” Mollie said rather lamely. Mollie hesitated…unsure of whether she was in the proper position to give advice. However it had been a while since Mollie had conversed with a woman one on one and of her own accord. “Personally, I think you should try to understand your husbands dealings,” Mollie explained with a shrug. “If not for you own peace of mind, then for your future child.”

Jelena dropped her gaze and rubbed her hand protectively over her belly.

“I just want my son to be in good hands and get what is owed to him,” she explained softly. “I don’t want him to end up like James. Fighting for a position that should have belonged to him.”

Mollie nodded as if in understanding. She hoped Jelena understood that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but Hartley’s own warped ideas forced upon his family and his empire. 

“I’m sure your son will get what is rightfully his,” Mollie said with a small smile. 

Jelena smiled and daintily finished the rest of her tea.

“I should get you back,” she murmured, rising to her feet. “Cécily must be wandering where you are.”

Mollie stood up hastily, having lost track of time herself. Jelena was not as tall as Mollie but she certainly moved quickly even in her floor length gown and Mollie struggled to keep up as she dashed along the corridor behind her.

She hoped she’d make it back before Cécily or someone else found her missing.

***

Mollie breathed a sigh of relief when she slipped herself back into the empty kitchen, the familiar smell of fresh baked goods filling her senses. 

She had only taken two steps into the heart of the kitchen when the door slammed open behind her and Cécily scampered towards her. 

“There you are!” she sputtered clutching Mollie’s skinny wrist in her grasp. “Master Lyon is on his way. I don’t know what I would have told him had you not returned.” 

Cécily was trying to keep her wits together but Mollie could see she was terrified.

“I’m sorry Cécily,” she said genuinely. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I had just stepped outside for a moment, the heat got to me.”

“Never mind that now,” she muttered scanning the room and looking Mollie up and down. 

“Thank you for this by the way,” Mollie murmured. “I hadn’t baked in so long…it was very kind of you to do this for me.”

Cécily hesitated as Mollie squeezed her arm gratefully. 

“It was Master Lyon’s idea actually _Mademoiselle,”_ Cécily said softly.

Mollie stiffened when she heard this and watched as Cécily scampered to the doors just as they eased open.

Micah walked elegantly into the room, his navy cloak framing his tall figure as Cécily bowed deeply before him. She shot Mollie a quick smile before leaving them alone in the kitchen.

He looked relaxed today. His dark hair was loose and tousled and Mollie saw that he had forgone his ascot today, opting for a dark grey button down and slim black slacks. His dagger rested lazily in his belt pocket and Mollie noticed he wore no gloves – a rare occurrence.

He eyed the goods that lined the enormous island in the centre of the kitchen. 

“I see you didn’t hold back,” Micah said with a smirk. 

Mollie eyed the dagger slung loosely in his belt. She couldn’t help but wonder who’s blood stained the blade this time.

“I missed it,” she said shortly brushing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s been a while since I’ve baked.”

Micah nodded in understanding.

Mollie watched him as he walked along the table, observing what she had made. His features were carefully blank as he walked slowly around the table. 

Mollie rolled her eyes.

“There’s no _croquembouche_ if that’s what you were looking for,” she couldn’t help but add as he paused to look at her. “It’s a little too…rich for me. I thought it best to keep it simple.”

He didn’t respond right away, taking his time to turn a dish or two to the side and critique it. It reminded Mollie of the quaternary citizens who came to her bakery and judged her food without even trying a sample. 

“I don’t mind simple, every now and then.”

His murmur was so soft Mollie wasn’t even sure she heard him correctly. 

Mollie scoffed.

“Try one then,” she said in a challenging tone. She crossed her arms as she stood across from him. 

Mollie could see he was fighting a smile as he turned to look back at her.

“Are you giving orders to a prince Miss Mayeson?” Micah asked. 

She stood her ground as he took several long strides forward until he stood in front of her.

He took her chin in his fingers and tilted her head up to face him.

His cold fingers sent a shiver down her spine.

“Are you surprised?” she whispered, staring into those cold impassive orbs of green. “You seem to enjoy lecturing me on my utter lack of decency.”

Micah’s lips twitched, perhaps recalling the very same memory that swept past her mind. 

“On the contrary,” he said rather dryly. “You never fail to surprise me, _especially_ when it comes to your…impudence .”

Mollie frowned jerking her chin from his grasp.

“I wouldn’t want to disappoint,” she said with snarky tone.

Mollie stilled as Micah swept past her towards the door, knocking twice sharply against the wood before Cécily entered with a bow.

Micah spoke softly to her in French as Mollie stood against the far back wall, scowling as their eyes grazed over her several times. 

She was fuming and she knew Micah was aware of it.

With a nod Cécily left them and Micah returned to her side firmly looping his arm through hers.

“What were you talking about?” Mollie asked stiffly as Micah led them out of the grand kitchen. 

_“Quel malheur*,”_ Micah said with a chuckle. “And I thought your French was improving.”

Mollie scowled as he led them down the hall.

The late afternoon sun filtered in through the arched windows casting a warm yellow glow over the landscape of snow that completely encapsulated the fortress. 

“I was thinking…maybe you’d like to see the town where I was born?” Micah sounded uncharacteristically hesitant and Mollie looked at him in surprise. “The weather is warmer there. It’ll be a nice change of scenery.”

He was right and in spite of herself wanting to make his life a little more difficult… she _wouldn’t_ mind time away from the castle.

“I suppose,” she muttered, not trying to seem overly eager. Mollie was suspicious. Micah always had a reason for everything he did and she knew he was not doing this out of the kindness of his heart.

There was always a motive when it came to the winter prince.

“It’s a bit of a distance from _Le Château_ but it’s towards the south. The wind doesn’t hit as harshly there as it does here.”

She tightened her yellow cloak around her neck as they stepped outside into the chilly afternoon air. 

A carriage was already waiting for them as Micah guided her through the thick snow. 

Mollie sighed and slid into the luxurious carriage across from Micah her expression solemn. Her mind was pre-occupied today. The conversation she had with Jelena was circling in her mind like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

She hadn’t seen Micah’s brothers since the eventful reception and she wasn’t sure whether they had returned to Questershire or were taking refuge in some other part of the gargantuan castle. Maybe some time away would be beneficial for Mollie – a way for her to find some clarity in her befuddling life.

***

The trip was shorter than Mollie anticipated and she perked up when streetlights began to follow along the perimeter of the cobbled road. 

The town was startlingly simple – quite humble in Mollie’s opinion. She was expecting a grand city of opulence for the birthtown of a prince. Then again, Mollie remembered who Micah’s mother was and she wondered if perhaps this was also where she came from – simple beginnings. Mollie found it difficult to believe someone as cold, evil and menacing as Hartley could ever father a child with someone below his status. The man built his entire empire on the foundation of corruption and exploitation of the poor. It struck Mollie as odd.

In spite of the simple homes that littered the snowy open fields around the winding cobbled roads of the North – Mollie noticed the transition in ambiance as the carriage continued further down the road towards the mountains. 

Before they could incline, they took a sharp turn, the carriage rolling forward down a steep but precarious road bordering a particularly large snowy hill. 

The carriage came to a stop outside of a massive circular pathway leading to one of the grandest chalets Mollie had ever seen. Her skin prickled as she read the grand lettering above the arched entrance. 

_**Chalet de Lyon**_

Mollie tried not to let her jaw drop as Micah slid out of the carriage and offered a hand out for her. _Of course_ the Lyons had the most lavish chalet overlooking the best view of the mountains. It shouldn't have been as surprising to her -- but to see the name engraved so largely across the wood still made her skin prickle. 

A guard sunk to his knees immediately upon their arrival and Mollie swallowed uncomfortably as he bowed his head at her also.

 _“Bienvenue à Courchevel mon prince,”_ he said. 

_“Léon,”_ Micah said with a smile giving the guard a warm handshake. 

“Ah Micah,” the guard said with a shake of his head. _“Elle est vraiment ravissante. Les rumeurs sont vraies.”_

 _“Vous êtes trop gentil Léon.”_

The men spoke together for a bit as Mollie took in the grand building before them. This place was simply gorgeous. The snow was piled atop of the wooden monstrosity giving the humungous building a rustic touch. The windows were wide and floor length and overlooking the snow capped mountains in the background.

“Follow me _ma choupinette,”_ Micah murmured looping his arm through hers.

Mollie watched in silence as crowds parted and the townsfolk bowed and grovelled before the man beside her. Micah was as pleasant and as charming as ever greeting the men who rushed to kiss his hand or the women who blushed and stuttered as he smiled at them.

Mollie felt incredibly out of place as they extended their courtesy to her. She was used to the stares and the looks of disgust directed at her. This new reception was foreign. 

“Are you hungry?” Micah murmured into her ear at some point as he brought her towards a long table filled with platters of food.

Mollie was about to respond when she caught sight of the opulent display of food lining the table and felt her throat well up. They were _hers._ All of the dishes lavishly displayed along the table was of the food she had just baked hours before. 

She looked at Micah in shock as he smirked at her. She watched as the guests around them ate _her_ food. They had no idea – absolutely no clue that the dessert they were devouring was made by someone far below their status. 

It was quite an amusing display and she found herself smiling as the platters began to grow progressively more empty. If only they knew…

“See I told you,” Micah whispered snaking a hand around her waist. “Simple is nice now and again.”

Mollie looked at Micah as he observed the display before them. 

“You did this on purpose didn’t you?” she said softly as the last of the _petit fours_ disappeared from the platter.

Micah shrugged.

“They wouldn’t know the difference if the food was baked in a shack or in a castle,” he said softly. 

His green eyes flickered to hers for a second.

“On some rare occasions ignorance is bliss Mollie Mae.”

Mollie shot him a look.

 _“Very_ rare occasions,” she emphasized as he laughed lightly beside her.

Mollie felt a warmth bubbling up inside of her as she stood beside the prince. He seemed more alive…more human when he was away from the castle – away from his work.

There was a domesticity in this town – a leniency to rules and regulations that Mollie felt the minute she entered. There was a warmth here that wasn’t present in Questershire or in the fortress of _Icedalar._ It almost seemed as if Micah was simply a rich man in a small town and not the heir of a powerful dictator with the power to determine the fates of everyone around them.

People were happy and respectful and there was a definite lack of judgment that radiated around the room. Although this place was certainly geared towards the rich – it wasn’t as apparent – as overt as it was in other places she had been to before. 

_“Le champagne pour la belle dame?”_

Mollie looked up to see a guard with a kind face offering her a tall bubbly glass of rose tinted liquid. 

Before she could accept she felt Micah’s grip on her waist tighten as he brushed the guard away. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked turning to him.

He maintained the congenial smile on his face but Mollie sensed something stiff about him that he was expertly concealing.

“You won’t like the champagne here,” he said curtly guiding her towards a different part of the room. “It’s fermented differently than it is in the South – it’s less sweet.”

“I don’t mind,” Mollie said with a shrug. “How do you know what I like anyways?” she asked raising her eyebrow.

Micah chuckled gesturing for another guard to come forward with a large array of goblets in his hand.

“Maybe I’m trying to figure that out Mollie Mae,” he said giving her long dark curl a tug. “Try anyone you like,” he said gesturing to the guards silver platter held out in front of her. Mollie felt overwhelmed just looking at all of the different coloured drinks. They all smelled fruity – like juice and she frowned. She wasn’t a child. 

Before she could complain Micah had already turned around and began speaking with another guest.

She sighed and waved the guard away. She wasn’t feeling it.

Mollie walked over to Micah after some time. He was speaking closely with a woman by the chocolate fountain in the middle of the room.

The woman had that look on her face. The look that made Mollie want to roll her eyes so far up in her skull that it burned a hole through the other side.

The woman blushed as Micah laughed touching his goblet to hers in a friendly manner. The woman wore an expensive gown, a shimmering pearly colour that radiated off of her olive skin. 

She brushed Micah affectionately against his shoulder as she left, her sweet perfume lingering in the air long after she had gone. 

Mollie rolled her eyes as Micah’s eyes flickered over to hers.

“She seems familiar with you,” Mollie couldn’t help but announce as she watched Micah smirk in amusement.

“Women remain dismally the same throughout the years.”

Mollie scoffed. “If you didn’t have so many you probably wouldn’t be so disappointed.”

She paused suddenly, turning her full attention onto him. The guests continued on, enjoying the festivities around them.

He twirled the goblet in his hand as he spoke to Mollie, the ring on his finger catching the dim lighting.

“That was Vivienne Coeur. She recently came into a large sum of money following her marriage to a wealthy Count. She thinks she has what it takes to bring some competition to the market. She’ll go through any means necessary to expand this wealth. I have no doubt she made the trip here with the sole purpose of recruiting for her business.”

She could see Micah’s expression harden into something resembling disdain after the woman had left. 

Mollie followed Micah’s gaze where the woman was currently getting handsy with another man in an expensive maroon suit. The man seemed smitten.

“It’s just a matter of watching how many people fall for her pretty lies and artificiality,” he whispered into her ear.

Now Mollie was the one to smirk.

“It must be so boring for you. Being one step ahead of everybody else in the room.”

Micah looked at her. 

“I suppose it can make day to day activities rather… monotonous.”

“I’m sure,” Mollie said rather dryly. 

“It’s mostly just a matter of waiting for everybody else to catch-up.”

She frowned as he brushed a finger against her cheek.

“How dreadfully infuriating.” 

“You have no idea,” he breathed stepping even closer to her.

Mollie squirmed as he pressed against her. She suddenly wished she had taken that drink.

***

Mollie spent the rest of the evening by Micah’s side nodding and smiling when needed and allowing an important monarchical member or two to kiss her cheek every now and then. Micah was always by her side – guiding her from one clique to the next. She didn’t realize how exhausting it really was until he began to guide her out of the main foyer and into the cool open air. Their chalet was the furthest from the main atrium – down a cobbled street towards the mountains. She tightened her coat as he looped his arm snuggly in her own, their breaths releasing in puffs of air as they strolled outside.

It was pleasant here – not overly cold but slightly chilly. It seemed appropriate considering the snowy landscape around them. People seemed more friendly here – more inviting and hospitable. Perhaps they took pride in knowing the prince of their monarchy was born on their land. People seemed more well off here – more so than in other places she had visited with the Lyons so far. She wondered if Micah had anything to do with it. She brushed these thoughts from her mind as she walked arm in arm with him. 

He had gone quiet as the evening went on – his pale eyes flickering over to her more than usual. Mollie wondered if he was keeping tabs on her ever since her fiasco at his reception the other night. However it didn’t matter to Mollie, at the moment she was in a good mood and she had no intention of letting him spoil it. 

“You know _all_ those people?” she asked him as he walked casually beside her. To anyone else, they may have looked like any other couple from the North. Arm-in-arm on a breezy chilly night in late June. 

“Not all of them,” Micah said with a shrug. “A lot of them are diplomats. They come here and like to claim they’ve been to the North.”

He smirked at her as they passed a simple more rustic chalet where an older couple sat outside – their hands intertwined as they swung back and forth on a simple swing outside their doors.

Mollie suddenly wondered about the outcome of her own future. Would she ever end up like that one day? Hand in hand with a lover? 

She averted her gaze preferring to focus on her boots crunching against the snow.

“They don’t make the full trip up to _Icedalar,”_ Micah explained as they sauntered forward. “The conditions there are too harsh. They’d rather be here in _Courchevel_ , where it’s more…endurable.”

Mollie considered this and she looked out beyond her at the cosy landscape. The sound of children playing near the fields filled her ears and the tall streetlamps that bordered the perimeter of the pathway casted a warm glow over the picturesque landscape. 

Although Mollie detested winter –she couldn’t deny the beauty of the prince’s hometown. It reminded Mollie of one of those snow globes they sold at those vintage shops in Chartery. The ones with the children playing in snowy fields as they sipped hot chocolate underneath a pretty snowy balcony. It painted winter as an extension of a utopic winter wonderland. 

Micah paused as Mollie removed herself from his grasp to linger towards a hilltop of snow. Her hair ruffled in the breeze and her cheeks were pink from the chilly air but still she found herself drawn to the stunning landscape.

Mollie fell backwards into the soft fluffy snow feeling the dampness set into her back and hair. For once she didn’t mind it. 

Micah was frozen still on the pathway, his lips parted in what Mollie figured was surprise. 

“Mollie...” the sigh that followed was more than indicative of how he was feeling. “What are you doing?” He asked warily. 

“What?” Mollie responded closing her eyes. “You’ve been here all your life and you’ve never jumped in a pile of snow?” 

Mollie hadn’t felt free in a long time. Maybe it was the pleasant weather or the fact that she had been given the opportunity to do what she loved after being deprived of it for so long. Irregardless, she felt good—hopeful even. She felt… _alleviation._ It had been long, so long since she’d felt some recourse from her chronic pain and she wanted to soak it all in – even if she was in the presence of the man who had orchestrated the departure of her old life to this new foreign one. 

Mollie opened her eyes to see the prince standing where he had been before -- a rather indiscernible expression on his handsome features.

She squealed when she felt something moist and wet press against her ear. She scrambled back, unintentionally nestling herself deeper into the snow as a furry solid mass of white caged her in. Theo's muzzle brushed against her cheek as she sniffed Mollie thoroughly. If it weren't for those bright blue eyes Mollie would have found her near indistinguishable amongst the snow. She hadn't seen the beast in weeks and she assumed it must have accompanied Micah on all of his duties. It was the first time in a while that the wolf hadn't growled or bared its teeth at her. It was uncharacteristically gentle and Mollie squirmed as it began to muzzle at her midriff, poking its snout dangerously close to her - 

"Theodora." 

Micah's voice pierced the air and the wolf immediately bounded towards him. Her tail was down and she lowered her head submissively as she perched dutifully beside her master. 

Micah's lips tightened when Mollie made eye contact with him and he looked away swiftly tightening the cloak around his throat.

He looked up at the navy sky above them once before returning his gaze to her and motioning for her to follow.

“We’re not children anymore Mollie Mae,” he said softly. 

Micah moved forward, his back stiff and his gloved hands straight at his side as his cloak brushed against the snowy roadside behind him. The wolf followed him, her heavy paws leaving prints in the snow.

It was in that moment that Mollie wondered if Micah even had a childhood to begin with. She swallowed thickly and ran to catch up with her company leaving a deep indent in the formerly untouched slowly hillside.

***

“Stand straighter Mollie.”

Mollie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She still felt the sharp sting on her bottom from when he playfully smacked her rear earlier after she tried to talk back to him. Although he chastised her, she knew he secretly enjoyed it. Micah liked a challenge. 

For someone who was always so stiff and rigid – Micah had the hands of an agile natural artist as his fingers glided against the parchment. 

“Lift your head higher,” he said softly as Mollie locked her jaw and acquiesced.

She tucked a curl behind her ear as his eyes drifted to and from the page in front of him. She couldn’t see what he had completed so far but Mollie could feel her legs cramping from holding her position for so long. 

His soft strokes of pencil against paper came to a halt and Mollie held her breath as his eyes met hers. Mollie was always so struck by how _green_ they were. They were framed by thick dark lashes that fluttered each time he blinked or turned his gaze elsewhere.

“Drop to your knees.”

Mollie suddenly felt hot in spite of the pleasant room temperature around them. He had told her to perch on the edge of the bed that was elevated on a thin platform. It was a similar platform that Mollie had seen only once before – within the Kings chambers.

She took in a shaky breath as she lowered herself down – her yellow dress ballooning around her as her knees touched the wooden floor. 

“Draw your legs up.”

His voice was so soft and languid that Mollie found herself abiding quite wilfully as his sharp eyes took in every movement of her lithe figure. 

His soft pink lips curved into a smile as Mollie brought her knees forward, her yellow dress rising a little past her thighs. 

“Spread your legs.”

Mollie’s eyes suddenly snapped to his and she glowered at him when she realized what he had been doing.

She quickly pushed herself to her feet as Micah laughed from his seat at the desk in front of her.

"How very mature of you," she muttered with a frown. 

He lazily dropped his sketchbook on the table as Mollie walked toward him.

“So are you going to show me?” she asked raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t stand up there all night for no reason.”

“Why you want a reward?” he asked with a smile. “Because I’ll happily oblige,” he murmured. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”

Mollie raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said with an air of tautness. “I thought it was improper for a common woman to negotiate with a prince.”

His lips twitched and Mollie knew she had him there.

“Trust me Mollie Mae, you are far from common.”

He watched her from the chair beside her as she stood behind the large desk sifting through his sketches.

His drawings were…incredibly detailed. More so than Mollie had first thought and she felt her face heat as she looked at the one he had just drawn of her. He had captured everything in such a small of amount of time from her stray baby hairs that lined her forehead as well as the soft spray of freckles around her nose. Her lips were parted but she could see he even included the indented bite marks within her lower lip from the bad habit she had developed over the last couple months. She was constantly chewing it and the attention he paid to every minute detail of her body astonished her. 

She flipped the pages over, her eyes wandering at what else he had captured with his pen and paper.

She inhaled sharply.

“Your drawings-“ Mollie whispered staring at them. There was something so haunting – so painfully melancholic yet so startlingly beautiful about them. It made her heart soar to her throat.

_“En français ma chérie.”_

She trembled as he wandered over behind her. His cool breath fanned the back of her neck as he brought his large pale hands to rest on her waist.

Mollie shuddered as he squeezed her waist affectionately. 

A lot of them were of her. She could tell from the hair and the delicate features. The soft stroke of the pencil as it captured her thick curls as she leaned over the balcony in his room of Questershire – one of her sleeping peacefully on his bed, her chest bare, and her hair fanning the pillow – another of her scowling as she sat alone in the middle of the bathtub. 

She swallowed thickly as he stood behind her—watching her flip through the delicate piles of parchment. 

“Who’s this?” she whispered ignoring his previous request.

Micah’s hands stilled and Mollie held her breath as she held a familiar sketch in front of her eyes.

She had seen this photo before -- a similar one in his fathers chambers months ago. She had a feeling it was Micah who had drawn it and she had been right.

He was quiet for a long time but Mollie didn’t let down. She wouldn’t let him evade the question. Not this time around.

“It’s the same woman,” she murmured, tracing the outline as she faced away, her long hair billowing behind her. Why was she always facing away? Why didn’t he draw her face? “This is the same woman you have on your wall at the château.”

She felt him exhale behind her and she stood frozen for an immeasurable amount of time, before he carefully lifted the drawing from her numb fingers and held it tightly in his own.

“She’s my mother,” he murmured. His voice rumbled against her ear and Mollie looked up at him.

His eyes remain glued to the drawing, his expression placid. 

“Who was she?” Mollie asked softly. 

She could feel Micah’s hard chest behind her and she suddenly felt worried. What if he snapped at her? She was too close to him to escape unscathed if she did involuntarily tick him off.

“I don’t know.”

His tone was as desolate as his expression and she felt her throat go dry.

“These are just figments of my imagination. Of what I _think_ she may have looked like. My father kept no photos of her. Or so he claims.”

Mollie wanted to open her mouth, but she quickly closed it. 

_Had he never stepped foot inside his father’s chambers?_

Something didn’t add up and it bothered Mollie. The girl was convinced the beautiful blonde woman with those vibrant green eyes in Hartley’s chamber was Micah’s mother. She had been so sure. Had she made a mistake?

No. She couldn’t have. Micah was a spitting image of that woman.

“I like to think she was kind,” he murmured brushing his fingers over the sketched figure. “Fierce but determined. Maybe even a little stubborn – but kind. Always kind.”

Mollie felt irrational tears reach her eyes and she tried to blink them away as Micah continued his musings.

“Sometimes I wonder if she preferred the warmth of summer? Or if she enjoyed the chill of winter? I wonder if she liked to read? Or if she was adventurous? Was she tall or petite? Did she follow orders? Or did she fight for what she believed in? I wonder if she ever got her freedom.”

Mollie could feel her breathing begin to falter and she stiffened in Micah’s arms.

“I like to think she escaped,” he murmured nuzzling Mollie’s ear. “I like to think she left my father in the dust with all his wealth-- his power--his control and never returned.”

Mollie didn’t know why she felt so emotional. She felt in this moment as if she were responsible for Micah. She remembered what he had told her about his father. How his father would stare into his eyes as he beat him hard and cruel. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps Hartley too loved once. Maybe that is what it had reduced him to. Perhaps that is what turned his heart to stone. Maybe Micah feared the same would happen to him. 

Mollie could barely keep her voice from tremoring as she spoke. 

“She’s free now Micah. That’s all that matters.”

Mollie couldn’t even imagine it. Having to grow up pretending that someone you never met and never knew was your mother. She couldn’t begin to fathom it. It was too disturbing – so utterly warped it made her stomach clench. 

No wonder Micah had no real interest in the monarchy. Porphyria was nothing to him and his entire life from the very moment he was born, was simply a ploy to cover up for his own fathers wrongdoings. Mollie wondered if Micah was even planned in the first place. 

_“Libérer,”_ he murmured against the soft skin of her neck.

Mollie stood still as he kissed his way down her neck, his soft lips brushing downwards till it reached her collarbone. 

She felt her breath leave her lungs as he suddenly turned her around so she was facing him. 

His eyes were bright and glowing in the dimly lit room and she couldn’t help but brush her fingers beneath them. 

“Your eyes,” she murmured.

 _“Tes yeux,”_ he responded never breaking eye contact with her.

Her fingers moved silently inching downward till it traced the sharp defined shape of his nose. 

“Nose,” she whispered.

_“Nez.”_

She slid her fingers down across his flushed cheek warming the skin with her heated palm.

“Lips.”

_“Bouche.”_

She shuddered when he leaned in to press his lips against hers.

She stumbled backwards into the vast wooden table in the room, sending the papers and crayons crashing onto the floor. Micah couldn’t be bothered by it and she whimpered as he pressed himself against her. 

Her back hit the table hard and she moaned as his tongue moulded against hers. She could hear him groan in response as his fingers rose delicately to cup her face in his palms. 

_“Baiser,”_ he breathed into her mouth as he lifted her into his arms and she fluidly wrapped her legs around his waist.

God Mollie hated herself in that moment. How easy it was for her to just melt back into his arms after his cruelty towards her the other night.

But he had made it up to her hadn’t he? He’d let her do something that she loved. He had given her a piece of home in a place that was so far from it.

Maybe she really was a concubine. The way her panties flooded and her pussy ached for him…she certainly felt so. She was so sensitive tonight to every slight brush and caress of his fingers against her flesh. His cologne seemed extra strong today and his aura that much more alluring. 

Her libido ran through the roof.

 _“Mmm,”_ she hummed as he flattened her against the large French pane windows that overlooked the snowy landscape. 

She was panting heavily as he held her jaw and sucked her bottom lip hard. His tongue toyed with hers as his grip only tightened further.

Mollie was dizzy as he continued his passionate display of affection -- his tongue exploring every part of her mouth it could reach. 

She was crowded against the chilly window, completely immobilized against it by his incredibly dominating stature.

Mollie’s chest openly heaved between the two of them as he broke away from her lips to suck her pulse point.

Mollie watched as he lowered his chin to watch her rapidly rising and falling cleavage as she struggled to find leverage upon the elevated platform.

Mollie froze as he gave the necklace around her neck a sharp pull before sliding his chilly fingers down until it pulled at the fabric of her dress. Mollie’s hemline dipped as his finger slid the fabric down over the curve of her breast.

The moonlight through the window washed over their figures as the prince stood silently panting in front of her as he stared down at her nipple – stiff and aching in the chilly air. 

Mollie closed her eyes, as she clutched at the protruding wall behind her, sinking her nails into the hard wood.

Her breasts had been tender since that morning and she shuddered as he brushed his fingers against them. His touch was so light…as delicate as it could be-- yet it still elicited such an immense response from the girl.

She bit her lip hard as he tested the weight of it in his palm -- gently squeezing the full flesh. His exploration of her body was so slow and calculated-- she could feel the wetness between her thighs begin to increase.

Her stimulation had never been so instinctual before and she gasped as he pulled the fabric down in its entirety, baring both her breasts to the cold room.

Mollie could see his attention was completely enraptured by the visual in front of him and she tensed as he brought his lips toward her left breast, brushing his lips against her hypersensitive flesh.

 _“Sein,”_ he murmured before he enveloped her aching nipple between his soft lips. 

Mollie whimpered as he sucked hard on her flesh. Her fingers found their way into his thick hair tugging sharply as his teeth grazed her nipple, the sensation shooting straight to her core.

She nearly choked when she felt his fingers brush her dampened slit between her thighs.

 _“Déjà prête pour moi,”_ he said with a chuckle, his nose brushing her bare breast.

 _“Micah,”_ she moaned as he squeezed her other breast in his palm.

 _“Patience ma chérie,”_ he murmured. 

She squirmed as he ghosted his lips down her navel till it brushed against the top of the coveted space between her thighs.

 _“Mmmph,”_ she gasped, her bare back resting against the cold glass behind her. The frost was a swift relief to her blazing skin as she felt Micah’s tongue slide cool and wet against her slit. 

Mollie felt her vision stir out of focus as he lowered his head to grant himself better access to her most sensitive area. She was sweaty and shaking as her legs sprawled outward to curl around him. 

He sucked her clit into his mouth as Mollie cried out into her shoulder. She felt so hopelessly blissful -- his tongue doing something utterly exquisite to her as he reached upward to squeeze a breast in his palm. 

She knotted her hands in his thick unruly hair as he continued to taste her without any real aim or drive. It was as if he was sampling every surface of her he encountered-- lazily lapping once or twice before moving somewhere else in search of something equally succulent.

“I’m going to- I _can’t,”_ Mollie choked as she slammed her hands against the sharp ledge of the window. Her eyes rolled towards the ceiling as her legs tightened around him. His cold hands had tightened around the flesh of her thighs to nudge them open even farther as he continued driving his tongue in and out of her dripping canal. 

Mollie came hard in his mouth, screaming her pleasure and disrupting the eerie silence that was so reminiscent of the North. 

She felt every fibre of strength leave her body as she sunk weakly against the window, her sweaty palms leaving a trek of condensation against the frosty glass. Mollie whimpered as he continued to caress her swollen pussy with his tongue even after the throbbing had long since passed.

Mollie whined shamelessly as cold fingers dipped into her slit to accumulate the last remnants of wetness leaking from her entrance.

“I..I won’t be gentle,” he managed between heavy breaths.

Mollie opened her eyes to see the head of the prince resting in the space between her breasts as he dropped his trousers to the floor, his body as bare as hers.

“I…won’t be able to,” he managed to say against the skin of her chest. 

Mollie simply mewled forcing her legs to tighten around his hips as he guided his rock hard cock towards her entrance.

Mollie couldn’t manage even a single word before the prince slammed himself into her slick warmth with a single thrust. Mollie clawed her fingers against his hard forearms as he brushed her hair to one shoulder only to tighten his grip on her waist and push into her with all of his might. Mollie could feel his entire body jerk at the sensation of his cold thick length being fully engulfed by her searing hot swollen lower lips.

 _“Ma fille parfaite,”_ he groaned as he pounded into her, the glass window pane shaking with each thrust against her body. The sensations penetrated through Mollie like a melting glacier, dripping over her heated flesh and solidifying her internal organs into a sheen of thick ice. Mollie could feel the taste of blood in her mouth as she bit down hard on her lip to stifle the scream in her throat. 

Mollie could hear Micah’s soft grunts as he continued plowing his hips into hers, ignoring the way she bit her nails into his shoulder blade as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His scent was everywhere as he filled her up completely -- his swollen shaft moving forwards and backwards so her back rubbed slickly against the frigid glass windowpane. Her hips dragged against his as he planted gentle kisses against her warm neck.

Mollie couldn’t hold back any longer. Not for another second and she whined helplessly as her body shook from the force of his lovemaking – her spine straightening and her legs twisting ruthlessly around his narrow hips as she cried out in utter ecstasy. He was murmuring something to her -- something Mollie couldn't make out as her sense of sound was completely consumed by the rush of blood flowing through her ears. 

Mollie could feel his pulsating cock within her – nestled as deep as it could possibly go as the prince let out a low groan, thin spurts of ropy white liquid filling her as she collapsed against the window. 

_"Oh Micah,"_ she mewled clutching his soft curls in her fingers as she crushed him to her chest. She was enveloped in his scent, the feel of him around her, as her vision was filled with his dark chestnut locks and the feeling of his cool lips against her neck.

She had no strength to even lift herself up as she flopped against the ice-cold glass, her own curls damp against her neck as Micah supported her in his arms. His cock pulled out from within her heated canal with a soft _shlick_ as he lifted her body in his arms and laid her gently on the massive bed. He sealed his lips against hers once more, the taste of her juices still present on his soft lips. 

Mollie was blinking back the sleep that threatened to pull her under as she felt his lips press against her feverish forehead. 

_“Dormiez bien mon amour,”_ he whispered as she felt his dark curl brush the edge of her jaw.

She could feel him moving away from her and before she could process her actions she clutched his hand tighter in hers, pulling him down next to her. 

Mollie stirred -- her forehead against his chest as she tried in vain to fight the darkness that was creeping into her vision. It was a losing battle and she fell deep, the sounds of Micah's warm whispers and hand entwined with hers lulling her into a deep but gentle slumber. 

***

Mollie woke up to a warm light on her face as she groaned into the pillow. She was painfully sore, all over her body as she stretched wincing at the sharp pain.

“She’s finally awake.”

The soft murmur beside her stirred her into consciousness as she brushed her unruly curls out of her eyes. She rolled over to face him and blushed. 

He wore a soft linen white shirt unbuttoned down the front to expose his pale torso. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and in his hands were rolls of foreign documents that he lazily flipped through. 

He was never shirtless for long and Mollie figured it was to conceal the scars that marred the skin on his back. She felt them every time he made love to her, the indents that were etched into his skin for the rest of his life.

He had a couple purple bruises on his collarbone that she could see making her cheeks flame even more. She must not have been so gentle herself either. 

“Tea?”

He handed her a cup of steaming liquid and she hesitated as she pushed herself to her knees to take the delicate china from his hands.

She looked at him suspiciously as he turned back to his work, his sharp eyes zeroing in on the papers in front of him.

It was snowing outside as usual, the falling snow painting shadows of different shapes over the the bottom half of the enormous chalet window they were staying in. Mollie liked how warm it was in here, how protected it was from the elements as oppose to the constant chill that reached her bones back in the fortress of _Icedalar._ It was going to be so difficult to return. 

The tea was hot and fruity, soothing her aching bones with each sip that she took. 

“You were rather chatty last night,” he said off-handily signing a document before nestling through the pile on his lap. “I thought I’d have to silence you myself somehow,” he added with a smirk.

She ignored him choosing to shift her eyes over to the papers in front of him.

“What are those for?” she asked casually eyeing the documents in front of him.

“Work.” 

His tone was hard but not dismissive. He seemed to be in a good mood, she wondered if he was feeling conversational today.

“What language is that?” she asked suddenly. Her gaze was drawn to what appeared to be a map, along with various dotted locations around the crinkled parchment.

“Latin,” Micah responded brushing his fingers over the letters. 

“You speak it too?” she asked incredulously. She couldn’t help the awe that had seeped into her voice. At that moment, she realized how little she really knew about Micah – at least in terms of his everyday habits and activities.

He laughed and shook his head quickly.

“No Mollie Mae,” he said with a smile. “I don’t speak Latin.” 

She waited expectantly as he signed the bottom of another page quickly before shifting it to the bottom of the pile. 

“Many of the maps that were hand-drawn from earlier rulers wrote about their discoveries in Latin. That way if it ever fell into the wrong hands, an academic would be required to translate the information for them. Otherwise, it would be useless to them.”

He explained quietly showing Mollie another handwritten page full of arrows and circles and foreign words.

“Latin isn’t spoken anymore. It’s written and transcribed. It was a way for academics to preserve their knowledge and keep it uncorrupted from the common English language.”

“To keep things secret,” Mollie finished.

“Precisely,” he said.

“So you studied it? You can transcribe it?”

Micah shrugged. 

“I know the basics. Rowan is much more competent in the language than I am.”

Mollie watched as he flipped through more documents, his sharp eyes scanning the information at a surprisingly fast pace. 

_“Devonis,”_ she said suddenly halting the prince’s movements before he could flip the parchment over.

Micah raised an eyebrow as she took the document from his hands and tried to read the information. He didn’t stop her but she could see the amusement in his features.

It was all in French and she struggled to understand the words catching only bits and phrases as she brought the letters closer to her face.

“Oil,” she questioned. “Why are they exchanging oil with you?”

Micah took the paper from her hands and placed it back into his pile of paperwork. He had a smirk on his face as he observed her.

“Actually,” he said. “We are exchanging oil with _them.”_

Mollie frowned.

“Why? I thought the Ophians were sitting on mountains of oil.” She knew _Devonis_ were strong economical partners of the Ophians who had a plethora of oil beneath their land. It seemed odd for them to want oil from the Lyons when they had so much themselves.

Micah gave her a look.

“The Ophians have heavy fuel oils beneath their land. The heaviest grade. We’re talking grades four, five, six and even traces of heavy marine fuels. Heavily viscous and minimally volatile. But also the most toxic.”

Mollie listened to him closely as he twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers.

“Here,” he said gesturing to the walls around him. “We have an abundance of light and medium oils which is a lot more practical. It’s quite volatile and evaporates quickly – within a few days even – and with the evaporation goes the high toxicity.”

Mollie placed her empty tea cup next to the table and scrambled forward, her mind itching to hear more about his work.

“The colour of the oil is a good reflection of its grade,” Micah explained. “The light golden yellow is the one we find here in these lands and is much easier to recover. The Ophian Empire is full of heavy oil --the more difficult grade to extract. It’s often coined midnight oil based on how black and heavy the liquid is.”

He smiled at her as he released her curl from his fingers.

“But just because it's less practical doesn’t mean it’s not useful. Heavy grade oil from Ophian land can be used to sail a ship from Questershire all the way to the West there and back twice over.”

Mollie looked at him thoughtfully as he spoke to her. She wondered…

“How far is _Devonis_ from the Ophian Empire?”

Now Micah was the one to look at her. He had a bemused expression on his face.

“Why do you ask?”

“I met someone from the White Ball a couple months ago who was from _Devonis._ It’s in the East I’ve heard.”

Mollie didn’t look at him as she spoke. Instead she kept her eyes glued to the aged parchment on his lap. In spite of her elusivity, she knew Micah wasn’t stupid – and he certainly wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. She could see his eyes harden ever so slightly even though his tone remained conversational. 

“Ah, Lady Tamzin?” Micah said with a crooked smile. “She’s an old friend of the family. Her family has done business with our family for years. Indeed, her city rests on the border of Ophian land.”

“I didn’t specifically ask about her,” Mollie sniffed. She navigated her gaze elsewhere as Micah chuckled darkly.

“You didn’t have to.”

Mollie paused for a moment, a thought suddenly clicking into place.

“Is that why you’re marrying her?”

Micah went quiet beside her and she hesitated as she tried to read him. His face was now carefully stoic.

“She’s from _Devonis_ , the city directly outside the Ophian Empire on the Eastern peninsula. Her city is independent but on good terms with the Ophians. If you marry her…it would be much easier to negotiate with them wouldn’t it?”

Mollie didn’t mention that their marriage would also involve Lady Tamzin’s territory falling under Lyon jurisdiction. No wonder Hartley was pushing Micah so hard. He could hit two birds with one stone. Not only would he acquire more land, he would solidify land in the East making it much easier to interact with the Ophians. Mollie’s blood was boiling just thinking about the conniving mind of the King.

Mollie shifted in front of him as Micah sat stony faced in front of her.

“I think you’re lying,” she whispered staring at him. “There’s oil here too. Lots of it. I’ve heard them working at night out in the snow deserts. No one would be working that hard for easy low grade oil as you put it.”

“I’m not lying about anything,” Micah said coldly. The shift in his demeanour was instantaneous and Mollie felt her palms begin to sweat.

She tensed, unwilling to back down now. 

“I think you’re trading oil for iridium.”

She could see Micah stiffen in front of her. His jaw locked.

“But they keep refusing.” She continued to grill him, unperturbed. “Do you think the Ophians are stupid enough to agree to that exchange? They could use the iridium they _already_ have to make their _own_ oil.”

Micah had that dead empty expression on his face as he regarded her. She felt her stomach clench.

“Both are finite materials Mollie Mae. In my opinion, it would be more foolish to deplete something as precious as iridium for something as accessible as oil…. when it _itself_ could be used to make something of greater value.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to come here?” she asked suddenly piecing bits of information together. “Is that why James didn’t want you here? Because as much as you downplay the prosperity of the North – everyone secretly wants it for themselves. And you knew coming here would entail having to follow through with your fathers orders.” Mollie felt her blood run cold when she thought about the implications of his actions.

She was overstepping her boundaries – she could see by the way Micah’s jaw clenched and the way his face began to flush.

“That’s why you didn’t want to come. That’s why you wanted to take the longer route here through the South.” Mollie was openly staring at him now. “But you figured out something – you figured out how to get around it.” Mollie suddenly felt sick and she backed away from him. “What do you have planned Micah?” she shot out. Her voice had a tremor run through it and the look on his face made Mollie want to run for the snowy hills. 

Mollie watched him as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, his head resting back against the opulent headboard.

She shifted nervously. She felt feverish – hot and feverish. When his eyes suddenly opened --his green irises unsettlingly bright, Mollie thought she might hurl right then and there.

“You think you have it all figured out don’t you?”

The soft lilt in his tone scared her more than his iciness and she froze as he leaned in towards her.

“That’s why you brought me here,” she whispered. “You need me for something. Something to get you out of the situation you’re in right now.” 

_God. She had been such a fool. She had been taken up with him – pouring her efforts into the wrong things. This was so much more than Micah wanting to get his freedom. This was about something bigger altogether._

“You can’t use me to further your own agenda Micah,” she said bitterly. “I..I won’t allow it.”

When Micah regarded her now – his expression teetered on the edges of cynicism and amusement.

“Well it’s a little late for that isn’t it,” he whispered giving her cheek a caress. He pressed her harder than he usually did and Mollie gasped at the sudden onset of pressure.

Mollie didn’t know how they had gotten here.

The morning had begun so pleasantly – almost domestically. But before she knew it – they were back at each other’s throats again, their knives out and ready. 

“You know what I love about you Mollie?” he whispered bringing his cold hand down to her neck.

Mollie swallowed thickly. She didn’t like the iciness that radiated off of him nor the grinding tone his voice had acquired. 

His fingers brushed the edge of her nipple, the flesh stiffening at the touch and she tensed. 

In her sudden determination to interrogate the prince – she had completely forgotten about the fact that she was fully naked in front of him. 

He was drawing it out – toying with her the way he did when she angered him. 

Her breasts were sore – so sore from his insatiable touch the night before and she whimpered in pain as he pulled her nipple hard. It was as if –somehow- he knew of her state of hypersensitivity and was purposefully testing her tolerance to the pain.

“Hm?” he prompted squeezing the hard bud between his pale fingers.

“No,” she whipped out glaring openly at him.

He smiled in response showing off his deep dimples as he brought her head forward to rest against his shoulder.

“Your intransigence,” he said softly. Mollie cried out in pain as he gave her a nipple a sharp pull before bringing his hands to knot between the strands of her thick hair.

“Micah you’re hurting me,” she wailed pushing against him.

“Am I?” he said softly brushing his lips against her ear. “And here I was thinking the pain would be as alluring for you as it is for me.”

He sighed as if in heavy disappointment as he let her go.

She scrambled backwards glaring at him as she lifted the sheet to cover her breasts.

In that moment all she could see in Micah was the king. That dark smile, that false taunting tone of his voice. It made Mollie’s knuckles flex in anger. 

“You’re too scared of him,” she whispered. "You're too scared to do the right thing."

Mollie stared hatefully at Micah as he buttoned up his dress shirt the loose smile on his face washing off like rain on a windshield.

A few stray tears had spilled down Mollie’s cheek as she perched on the end of the massive bed, her knees digging into the satin sheets.

Micah didn’t seem affected by her words at first – rather his expression had taken on something glassy and her lip trembled.

He didn't respond, he didn't even fully react to her. Rather he turned as if in slow motion and deftly pushed his fingers between Mollie's knees to swipe at her sore cunt.

She was completely thrown off by his movement, not even anticipating the motion in the slightest. 

Micah's cold fingers pressed viciously against her heat sending a shockwave through her body. She cried out as he shoved three fingers into her at once. 

“Stop it,” she whimpered swiping at his hand. The pain was instant and she cried out.

His fingers curled within her tight canal. It felt horribly invasive and Mollie moaned in pain. He wasn’t doing this for her pleasure.

She exhaled heavily as he looked blankly at her before removing his fingers from between her thighs and curling them around her throat, his fingers were dry and she felt more tears drop from her lids.

"The next time you air out speculations about my character," he whispered his breath fanning her ear. "I'll cut out your tongue and feed it to my wolf. Am I clear?" 

She bit her lip hard as Micah tightened his hold on her throat. 

"I said, am I clear?" 

"Yes," Mollie snapped. 

"Good girl," he murmured. 

Mollie knew this was somewhat of a gentle warning especially when it came to Micah. This was him giving her a sign that she was venturing too far over her boundaries with her boldness and she retracted. She had to. Micah didn't bluff, not when it came to his punishments.

She stayed like that on the bed for some time, her lip trembling and her lashes wet with unshed tears as Micah went about his routine, studiously ignoring her. She knew she had hit a nerve when he reacted this way. She looked up when Micah returned, a rich dark blue waistcoast around his toned torso as he reached for his winter coat. 

“Get dressed Mollie Mae or I'll happily do it for you. We have a long day ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations in Order:
> 
> *How unfortunate


	32. Germanium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie comes to terms with her feelings for the Winter Prince. The turmoil in Icedalar appears to extend far beyond the borders of the Lyon empire. Mollie finds herself ensnared once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning: There are some frightening scenes in this chapter. Please be aware.

Mollie was in a foul mood.

Micah had said little to her since the morning and she had followed suit, only responding with one syllable answers when questioned.

She felt tired in spite of sleeping in that morning and she had no appetite. 

He was gentlemanly and exceedingly charming with the crowds that swarmed them as he ushered Mollie towards the carriage they had arrived in the night before. It was a snowless early afternoon with hints of sunlight penetrating through the hazy white atmosphere.

She looked at him in the small compartment of the carriage as they prepared to return to _Icedalar._

He frowned at her and she happily reciprocated the icy exchange.

They didn’t say a word to each other.

***

“Stop the carriage.”

Micah’s husky voice pierced the deafening silence and Mollie felt her blood run cold. Her eyes flickered to the window where an expanse of white flooded the entire thin pane of wood. She felt her insides clench. 

“Step out.”

Mollie looked at him. She felt a fear begin to bubble in her belly as his sharp tone sent a tremor down her spine. His eyes were glued to the window but she knew he was addressing her.

They were no where near the fortress yet, they couldn’t be. From the looks of it they appeared to be quite frankly in the middle of... nowhere.

Silently, Mollie followed through tightening her thick cloak around her as she slid through the open door. Her legs sunk knee deep into thick snow.

It wasn’t snowing. In fact, there seemed to be not even the faintest tremor of movement in the environment.

Everything was still, pristine and untouched. It must have been daytime – Mollie was sure of it but the sun was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was wrong and it was nighttime? She squinted into the distance but couldn’t see a moon catch her vision either. She felt as if time itself had frozen still and she cringed.

Micah seemed to glide through the snow as he brushed past her, the resistance of the heavy snow seemingly weightless to him. 

Micah had moved several steps ahead of her in the snow, his footsteps the only recognizable change amongst the eerily constant landscape.

There wasn’t a wind or a drop of snow that fell from the sky. Only thick grey sky and blinding white covered ground beneath Mollie’s feet. 

“I’ve made my choice Mollie.”

The first thing Mollie noticed was that he had addressed her formally, forgoing any sort of endearment. She didn’t know why – but this put her even more on edge.

Micah turned his vibrant gaze to her and she shivered. 

“My coronation ceremony is on the second last day of this month. I must marry before then to acquire full autonomy over my rights as prince and CEO of the Lyon monarchy.”

Mollie stared at him.

He suddenly came closer to her, his strides too quick and too long for her to observe.

He placed his gloved hands on her concealed shoulders and squeezed tightly as he stared deep into her eyes.

Mollie couldn’t see an ounce of warmth within them -- only that gaping void of emptiness that had quickly become a permanent part of the persona of the Winter Prince. 

“I want you to be there – beside me.”

He seemed to be struggling to put the words together and Mollie suddenly felt her lips go numb.

Mollie shook her head. Her throat felt thick and heavy.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. 

Micah hesitated.

His grip tightened on her shoulders and Mollie watched him confusedly as he turned his gaze away from her. 

“Full acquisition into my position warrants that I take a wife of my own." His soft murmur slid through barely moving lips and Mollie had to strain to hear him. "Only then, can I truly follow through with the position I have been granted.”

His words didn’t hold the tenderness one would normally possess saying something so moving and Mollie stiffened. She didn’t expect it to, but…she didn’t expect this from him either.

Her silence seemed to put him on edge and Mollie heard him exhale sharply. His tone went flat.

"You, Mollie." he responded. "I want it to be you."

Mollie couldn’t help the shock that jolted through her system.

_Wait._

Her lip was trembling, everything was hazy. Why did she feel so dizzy?”

“Mollie?”

Micah’s voice was suddenly laced with concern and Mollie barely registered herself sinking into the snow as Micah’s strong arms slowed her pace so she fell gradually instead of immediately. 

The cold air suddenly felt like acid down her throat and the girl struggled to regain a natural rhythm to her steady intake of breaths as Micah brushed his gloved hand over her forehead. 

“You’re burning up,” he murmured, his voice as sharp as brittle frost. 

Mollie couldn’t separate her emotions from what he had just told her. He spoke so nonchalantly - as if marriage were nothing more than another menial task on his long list of royal duties.

“You can’t…you can’t marry me,” she whispered. 

The entire lower half of her body was stuck deep in the snow but Mollie couldn’t care less. Micah was kneeling in front of her, his cloak draped gracefully behind him casting the only dark foliage amongst the white landscape.

“You can’t,” she said more forcefully as he stared expressionlessly back at her. “You’re betrothed to someone else – I – I’m not – you have rules – its forbidden!”

Mollie was simply ranting at this point but she could see the unmistakable defiance in Micah’s eyes. He meant what he had said.

His expression was gentler now, almost paternal the way he brushed her jaw and she felt her eyes begin to brim with tears.

 _How could he do this to her? Play with her emotions in such gruesome tantalizing ways. It was only hours ago that he threatened to maim her, now he wanted to make her his wife? No._

She smacked his hand away from her. 

She inflicted as much hatred as she could with the stare she directed at the prince.

“I’m not a part of your world Micah. I don’t belong here. I never did!” Mollie could feel the tears begin to spill from the corners of her eyes as her emotions began to bubble to the surface. “I can’t do this. I have my _own_ life to live, I want my _own_ freedom just as much as you do.”

“And what freedom is that?” Micah whipped out, his brows furrowing. “What life do you want to pursue?”

His response was so immediate she felt herself recoil. 

“You were taken away from that life the moment the Insurgency recruited you. That was no fault of mine.”

Mollie looked away. She didn’t have a response for him. She wanted to look at anything else but the man kneeling in front of her.

“None of us will ever really be free Mollie,” he murmured. “You’re a smart girl, you know this.”

His last comment grated her and she pushed him back hard. He didn’t move an inch.

“Maybe you think that!” she snapped. “But I won’t stop fighting for it. I’m not like _you.”_

She could feel her breaths begin to spill out of her as she kneeled panting in front of him. The ends of her curls were wet from the snow and she could feel icicles forming along the tips. 

“I can’t marry you Micah…we…we can’t do this.”

Micah sighed running a hand through his tousled curls. He looked up at her almost innocently, his bright green eyes shimmering with some ambiguous flicker of emotion. 

“Do we have to pretend that you have a choice?”

“Look at us,” she yelled swiping her freezing hands against her cheeks to wipe away the dampness. “We can’t go a single day without fighting. This…This isn’t a relationship. Not with the way you treat me…not with the things you've done to me.”

Her voice broke on the last word and it only served to infuriate her further as Micah cocked his head to one side. 

She wanted him to shout back at her. She wanted him to do something – feel the same way she felt at this moment. His looked of puzzlement irked her. It made her livid. 

_Could he not see? Did he see nothing wrong between them? Did he not see the wrong in his treatment towards her in the past?_

She loathed how genuinely confused he looked. 

“I hate you,” she broke out. “I fucking hate you.”

His lips pursed after that and Mollie swallowed the sob that was rising in her throat.

The pale fingers that swiped her jaw came to an untimely halt near her chin and she shut her eyes tightly, letting the tears fall freely down her face. 

When she opened her eyes next Micah looked strangely disconnected. He was watching her --his eyes glued to her own -- but his mind was elsewhere, somewhere within the deep recesses of his mind.

Then quite suddenly he gripped her tightly his knees sinking deeper into the snow as he curled his fingers around her skinny shoulders. 

He grabbed her, more roughly than she had expected and she gasped as he pulled free his ornate dagger from its sheathed location in his belt and pressed the handle into her shaking fingers.

“Do it then,” he whipped out. His voice was husky -- with emotion or anger Mollie couldn’t quite tell. “Free yourself of me, and finish what you started. _Fight_ back.”

The dagger felt like a one hundred pound weight in her grasp and Mollie shook with emotion as she kneeled in front of the youngest prince of the monarchy – his dagger in her grasp with the pointed end facing his heart.

"If you hate me as much as you claim, then prove it to me...to both of us."

The anger in her stomach dissipated immediately only to be replaced with utter bewilderment and a state of crippling alienation. 

Micah’s expression was impassive, those devastatingly handsome features on full display amidst the still silent ambiance. His eyes bore into hers – those green irises the only splash of colour amongst the alabaster backdrop like a stroke of ink on a blank canvas. 

He pulled her closer gently and she heaved with sobs as she brandished the dagger tightly in her hand and let him guide it towards his chest. His fingers curled around her own, his pale skin against her own complexion like snow on a mountain as he pressed the pointed edge of the weapon against his expensive shirt, the sharpness sinking through the fabric. 

“Micah,” she cried helplessly as his grip tightened even further.

She heard him inhale sharply and she began to shake with sobs as she saw the first remnants of blood stain the blade and soak into his white shirt. 

She could do it now. She could end it. Free herself of him forever.

_Isn't that what she had desired for so long?_

The object quivered in her hand and she felt her body shake with tremors as she prepared to drill it deep into his flesh.

His cold pale hand was wrapped around her own as he began to sink it further and Mollie began to openly wail.

Why did she feel a pain in her heart as she watched the blade sink deeper into the man in front of her. She should feel elation. She should have tears of joy running down her cheeks. She shouldn’t feel the way she felt now. 

In an instant, the reality of her situation dawned on her and Mollie recoiled. 

“No! STOP.” She screamed. She watched Micah sink his teeth into his lower lip as the blade inched even farther into him, the tip sinking into pale flesh. His hand was as shaky as hers but he kept her fingers tight around the gem encrusted hilt.

Mollie was screaming. She could hear it around her in the distance. A violent debilitating wail that echoed and screamed back at her from all around.

With a broken sob she wrenched her fingers free from his grasp and flung the vile object from her hand and collapsed into the snow. 

She broke down helplessly as the prince kneeled silently in front of her, a thin trickle of blood oozing from the wound on his chest. 

_Why. Why couldn’t she do it._

She was given an opportunity. He had given her a chance at her freedom. A chance to pursue her _own_ freedom. She would have been hailed a hero by the Insurgency. She’d have been the one and only girl from hundreds to have succeeded in a task that had gone unfulfilled for decades. 

_And yet…she couldn’t do it. She refused to do it._

Micah’s green eyes quivered as he bent down to her level where she sobbed helplessly into the ground. Her abdomen was heaving and her cheeks were numb from the cold. The dagger lay beside them, staining the snow a deep crimson.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat in the middle of the frozen wasteland, her knees digging into the deep wet snow as she wailed into the silent air. 

Micah brought his palms – somehow the same temperature as the frigid snow- against her wet cheeks, his expression vacant and his eyes as solid as a block of ice.

“This is why we do not love Mollie,” he whispered as she bawled shamelessly in front of him. “Love is a detritus that infiltrates and sequesters our strength. Love is a disease that feeds off of us like a parasite at our flesh. It sequesters every morsel of our energy, dampens every inkling of our willpower and blinds every facet of our sharp intellect so it can make weaklings of us all.”

Mollie shook her head fruitlessly from side to side. Her vision was blurred from her tears but she could make out the prince in front of her, his expression unchanged.

“I don’t…I don’t love you.”

Her voice came raspy and garbled as she sucked in shaky breaths.

Micah smiled inching her forehead closer so it brushed his own.

She cried softly as he inhaled her scent, brushing his nose against hers.

The prince nodded slowly, his thumbs swiping the fresh tears that fell from the corner of her eyes. 

“I know what it feels like Mollie,” he whispered his pink lips caressing her tear stained cheeks. “I know what it feels like to harbour a hate so deep it gnaws at you, clawing its way through every layer of your flesh from the inside out.”

Mollie whimpered as he tucked her damp curls behind her ears.

“I can share that pain with you. I can understand what it feels like to carry that pain like no one else in this world can.”

She stared at him as the tears fell silently down her face.

“I may be a perfect prince but I’m far from a perfect man.”

Her gaze diverted to the blade that lay several metres away from them, the blood sinking deep into the blanket of layers that lay beneath the snow.

“Listen.”

Micah stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. “It was never my choice…nor my intention to see you suffer.” He spoke in a forced even voice. “But regardless of what you think, or how you feel about me, I _care_ about you Mollie. I’ve tried not to, since the first day I saw you I tried not to.” His fingers had curled into fists at this point and Mollie sat frozen as the cold unyielding prince of the North finally shed his impenetrable barrier. “But I _do_ care.” 

His voice broke after this and Mollie watched in silence as Micah exhaled slowly, his cheeks flushing a deep pink. “I know I can,” he hesitated smoothing his hands on his lap and resting it lightly on her own. “I know that I’m... _capable_ of it.” His voice was barely a whisper now and Mollie had to lean in just to decipher what he was saying. “I know I have it in me to. I’m not like my father…”

His voice trailed off completely after this and Mollie shuddered as he withdrew his hands from hers.

Shakily, Mollie pushed herself up and off the ground. Everything from her waist down was soaked and her cheeks were numb from the tears that had left an icy sheen across her tender flesh. 

She looked down at the prince whose knees were still deep in the snow. White specks of snowflakes dotted his dark curls and he was still and unmoving, his head still turned downwards at his hands. 

She followed the thin trickle of blood that left a vivid trail down his pale chest with her eyes.

“Then prove it.”

The fierceness in her voice surprised her. 

Her thick hair lay heavy on her shoulders as she made her way back to the carriage, letting the cold sting of winter peel at the dampness on her cheeks. 

She didn’t look back.

***

“Come again Rowan?”

Jelena nervously sipped her water as her husband sat stiff and frustrated beside her. Hartley was sitting at the head of the table, little Nina on his lap as he observed his middle son with a cold blank stare.

Rowan remained quite placid in spite of the fierce gaze directed at him from the people seated around the room. It was an intimate dinner with immediate family only. The empty chair at the end seemed like an elephant in the room and Jelena was waiting for the moment someone would address it. She just hoped she’d be gone before that happened.

“The results were inconclusive. I repeated the trials multiple times to account for any statistical errors that may have occurred. There also doesn’t appear to be any further errors affiliated with systematic deviations in the norm and I accounted for any potential experimental errors when I –“

“So it didn’t work is what you’re saying?”

Jelena looked sharply at her husband who had a cool unimpressed look on his face.

“Skip the fancy terms Rowan and get to the point. Your research proved to be futile… _again.”_

Rowan sneered at his brother as Hartley turned his emotionless gaze between the two of them.

“I wouldn’t expect _you_ to understand the intricacies of scientific computations James. Some lack the skillset to comprehend it.”

“Boys.”

Hartley’s voice was soft and lilted but both fell silent as he bounced his granddaughter on his lap. 

Jelena had warned her daughter to be on her best behaviour and she eyed the young girl strictly. The girl bit her lip and looked down. 

“I received papers this morning informing me that Madame Coeur has agreed to the deal. I am awaiting signatures from the both of you still.”

James looked up sharply and Jelena watched the iciness that took over his features.

 _“Vivienne?_ She won't be arriving here until tomorrow evening. I was supposed to negotiate a deal with her in the West.”

“Indeed," Hartley said rather dryly. "You were _supposed_ to.”

The goblet in Jelena's father-in-law's hand slammed down onto the table so quickly and suddenly she felt her stomach drop to the floor and she cringed as Nina jerked in her grandfather’s arms. She prayed the girl sat still and quiet – no matter _what_ happened.

 _“Coeur_ will put her revenue towards businesses in the North. Your brother met with her last night.”

Jelena grimaced. She had an inkling this would happen.

She could tell James was fuming beside her. She was suddenly glad Micah was absent from dinner tonight. She couldn’t deal with another Lyon dinner fight. 

_“Je veux du jus.”_

The small childish voice interrupted the tenseness that had begun to circulate around the room and Jelena inhaled sharply as Hartley turned his attention to his granddaughter.

_“Qu-est-ce qu’on dit?_

Nina looked up at her grandfather and bit her lip before answering.

_“S’il vous plaît.”_

He nodded once and reached across the table for a tall carafe and began to pour the liquid into a short glass. 

There was a silence that radiated around the table as Hartley took his time seeing to the little girl on his lap. 

Rowan and James seemed to be involved in their own stare down and Jelena found herself drinking more water than she intentionally meant to.

The grandfather clock at the back of the room seemed to be the only sound echoing across the tense dining room. It was the sole source of consistency amidst the turbulent atmosphere.

_Tick_

_Tick_

_Tick_

_Tick_

Jelena could feel her stomach doing flips just contemplating what would happen next.

“Her English is poor.”

Hartley was looking at Jelena when he spoke and she suddenly felt her face grow hot.

He was waiting for some sort of response and she grimaced as Rowan and James turned their gaze to her.

“I’m working closely on improving her English Your Grace. We practice everyday.”

Jelena’s voice always had a tremor when she spoke to Hartley. She tended to focus her gaze on the space behind his ear rather than look him in the eye. She didn’t trust herself enough to do so and manage a complete sentence at the same time. 

“Work harder.”

His tone was blunt and she bowed her head down as he set the little girl on her feet. 

The girl stepped forward once to make a move towards her mother but stopped short when Hartley’s pale hand came to rest on her tiny shoulder. 

“She’s tired,” Jelena blurted inching an arm out towards her daughter. She recoiled as James shot her a glare that sent her sinking back into her seat.

“Please,” Hartley said with a stiff smile that made Jelena's skin prickle. “I’ll take her. God knows she may be the only grandchild I ever get.”

The subtle insult did not go unnoticed and she fell silent as Hartley left the room promptly with Nina closing the door sharply behind him. The _sub rosa_ that hung from the grand door swung from side to side several times before it remained still and unmoving once more.

Jelena hadn’t told James she was pregnant yet, she was waiting - waiting for the right moment…until she was absolutely sure she was far enough in her pregnancy to avoid any major mishaps. She knew this would be her saving grace. She knew it deep down.

Rowan had flung his glasses on the table and swiped a hand across his forehead. It was one of the rare times Jelena had seen him without his pristine combed locks and pressed suit and she knew he was under much stress at this time. Everyone was. War was in the air, she could feel it.

“How could you let _Vivienne Coeur_ go James? She was supposed to invest in the West. She would have provided ample opportunity for you to kick start the economy after such a turbulent year.” 

“Fuck _Vivienne Coeur.”_

James reached over on the counter and proceeded to pour himself a glass of the bitter whiskey that seemed to be on every corner table of this goddamn castle.

“I’ll just have to get the Count to agree to invest in my business instead of Micah’s. We know he won’t invest in the same business as his mistress.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re going to get _him_ to sign _your_ contract.”

Jelena swallowed uneasily. She knew about the Count. He was a notoriously promiscuous playboy, not so different from the late Logan Lyon, but with much more…fluid tastes.

James curled his lip as he stared at his brother.

Rowan laughed. A short humourless sound that echoed once around the vast cold dining hall.

“What are you going to do James? Micah won’t be here much longer to suck cock for lucrative contract deals. _Someone_ needs to step up.”

James suddenly smiled, a stiff sinister smile that made Jelena sick to her stomach.

“Maybe _you_ should step up this time Rowan. At least this task won’t be as tedious for you as it was for our baby brother.”

Rowan smirked.

"What makes you think I haven’t?”

James stiffened and Jelena saw Rowan laugh and take another long sip of his drink.

“We all pull our weight in this family James." Rowan's eyes brushed over Jelena for a split second before returning to James. "Some more than others it appears.”

Jelena frowned.

“Well, this has been a treat as always,” Rowan murmured buttoning his expensive blazer. _“Bon soir et adieu.”_

Jelena watched him saunter out of the room and only then did she finally release the pent up air she had kept locked in her chest. She was waiting. Waiting for the day that Rowans insufferable pride and grandiose ego finally caught up to him. When that day came, rest assured, she would be the first to rejoice.

_***_

“Mmm,” Mollie groaned as Micah slid himself free from between her legs with a long guttural moan. 

_“Tu es parfaite Mollie Mae,”_ he murmured into her neck as a sharp bounce of the carriage sent Mollie’s legs tangling with his.

Mollie’s mind was still pre-occupied with the events of what had happened only hours before. 

_Did she love him?_

She felt Micah’s sharp exhales against her ear as he slowly worked to steady his breaths once again.

_She couldn’t kill him, but that didn’t mean she loved him. Did it? She was just lonely that’s all. Starved of any other kind of human interaction apart from him._

_“Regardez-moi.”_

Mollie shifted and turned her head to face him.

In this moment he seemed so sublime, so gentle, so passionate. So _ethereal._

_Could she be with him?_

His soft lips were turned up into a half smile as he stared adoringly into her eyes. He entwined his hand with her own as he lay his head against her heaving chest directly above her heart.

They lay silent like that for some time. Micah’s normally cool body matched her body’s own temperature, as their body heat merged into one.

“Did you mean it, earlier today?”

Mollie's hesitant voice broke the comforting silence of the carriage as it rumbled on over the rough snow ridden gravel.

There was a slight pause before Micah responded.

“Mean what _ma chérie?”_

Mollie bit her lip as he drew circles with his finger across the skin of her chest. 

“Did you mean what you said about…feeding my tongue to your dog.”

“Theo isn’t a dog,” Micah said curtly, his finger tracing the soft skin around her nipple. “She’s a wolf hybrid.”

Mollie rolled her eyes.

He shifted slightly to glance up at her as he continued brushing his fingers against her heated skin.

“I mean everything I say Mollie Mae. That I can assure you.”

She fell silent after this, gently brushing her fingers against his pale ragged back. She couldn’t imagine how painful it must be. She knew scars that deep elicited a pain that never really went away, even after the skin had long since healed.

“Though I must admit…it would be rather tragic to lose a voice as lovely as yours.”

Mollie scoffed. 

“My grandmother had a nice voice,” she murmured. “A lot nicer than mine. She loved to sing, about everything and…anything.” She hesitated. "I miss her.”

Micah was quiet, his fingers stroking up and down her belly as she lay as comfortably as she could manage in the tight space.

“What did she sing?”

Mollie shrugged.

“Lots of things. _Sweet is the Budding Spring of Love, Toll for the Brave, Black eyed Susan, The Last Golden Rain.”_

Micah lifted his head from her chest abruptly and she froze as he stared at her, his arms on either side of her slender frame.

“What did you say?”

His voice was suddenly sharp and Mollie recoiled. 

_Had she angered him?_

No…in fact, the prince appeared rather... stunned.

“You can’t know that song,” he murmured more to himself as his brows furrowed. “That’s a royal ballad. _C’est impossible.”_

“What are you talking about?” she questioned with a frown.

“The Last Golden Rain,” Micah repeated flatly. 

“Of course I do,” Mollie protested. “My grandmother sang it to me all the time.”

Mollie lapsed into the first verse, her voice shaking slightly as she sang the first stanza of the ancient ballad.

Micah’s face paled after she had finished and Mollie admittedly had to say it was the first time she had ever seen the prince at a loss for words. 

Micah looked gravely uncomfortable and Mollie was instantly curious. 

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Micah exhaled slowly, his muscled chest rising and falling as he ran a hand through his dark locks. 

“That’s an ancient ballad. It’s been ingrained within monarchies for centuries. My great grandfather taught it to my grandfather who taught it to my father who taught it to me. Everyone who grew up in a royal family knows that song. I’m surprised that…you know it.”

Now Mollie was the one to stare at Micah in bewilderment. 

“Do you know the true meaning behind that song Mollie?” he asked, once again pressing his chest against her own as he lowered himself gently on top of her.

Mollie shook her head slowly. She had no idea what he was alluding to.

“I thought it was about some people on a fictional journey to some fantastical land in search of something…until they fall victim to a bout of bad weather.”

Micah shook his head.

“It’s not about the weather,” Micah murmured. “It’s referring to the Last Golden _Reign._ The Reign of a Kingdom.”

Mollie stared at him.

“The song isn’t even really a song at all, it’s a riddle. A riddle that supposedly leads the person who solves it to the coveted _Souffle de vie.”_

This captured Mollie’s attention and she sat ram rod straight. She tucked her wild curls behind her ears and stared at Micah, her wide brown eyes glassy with shock.

 _“Souffle de vie,”_ she repeated. She had heard Gibbs mention that before. Did that mean what Micah was referring to was... real? “Do those places exist?” she whispered. “The forest of bane? The river of _Morte?”_

Micah sighed.

“I don’t believe so. I’ve never heard nor encountered such places in my life. It’s an ancient ballad that’s been around for centuries. I believe its intention is to incite those who hear it and believe in it to partake on a quest that leads to nothing. People have spent years trying to decipher its meaning. If it were real, I believe someone would have long since figured it out by now.” 

Mollie couldn’t keep her thoughts at bay. Should she tell Micah what Gibbs had told her? He seemed reluctant to continue with the conversation so she let her questions dissipate for now. She made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Micah smirked suddenly tapping her on softly on the nose.

“You’re mind is working hard Mollie Mae,” he said with a laugh. “I can tell. Don’t dwell on it. These are ancient matters of the past.”

Mollie sighed and lay back down as Micah leaned in to plant his lips against hers. His voice was a husky murmur in the air as he ghosted kisses along her jaw towards her ear.

“Let us focus on the future.”

Mollie could feel the air becoming chillier as they made their way back to the icy fortress in _Icedalar._

She threaded her fingers through Micah’s thick locks as she crossed her legs around his waist. In this moment Mollie could not deny that her feelings for the prince had descended into a layer of incertitude. The feelings she felt towards him frightened her more than anything else she had encountered at the hands of the Lyons.

She wanted the Micah in these moments. The one that saw clarity in times when she didn’t. The one who opened up to her and expressed the tenderness he kept bottled up inside. The one proficient enough to display his affection. Mollie wanted to keep him, shelter him, and protect him from the Micah she knew existed only a blink away from the one she cherished. The one who was capable of descending almost instantaneously into the fearsome Winter Prince. 

She wanted to keep his mind clear from the impurity spewed upon him from his father, to shield him from the abuse of his brothers, and prevent him from spiralling into a man capable of unmitigated self-destruction. 

And in this moment she had him. 

She had him between her legs as he held her head in his hands and kissed her till the snowy landscape around her became nothing but a blur of white and the biting cold became nothing but a soft caress against her skin.

***

It was absolutely frigid outside by the time the carriage arrived back on the cold cobbled steps of _Château de Glaçe_ and Mollie was exhausted.

She could barely keep her eyes opened as Micah guided her back into the candlelit corridor of the lobby. 

The two guards at the entrance bowed immediately upon seeing the prince and Mollie watched bleary eyed as Micah turned to the one standing at the entrance to the second landing. 

“Escort Mollie back up to her room.”

The guard stiffened, his body language rigid as he eyed Mollie distastefully.

The pause seemed to catch Micah's attention and Mollie watched in trepidation as the prince casually dropped his hand to the hilt of his dagger his demeanour turning frosty. 

“I have no obligation to do so,” the guard sniffed maintaining eye contact with the prince. “Plus I may lose my position if I do, I’ve been given strict orders by Master James to adhere only to-.”

“You may lose your head if you don’t.”

Micah’s voice was more frigid than solid ice and the guard’s lips went white as he bowed immediately and gestured for Mollie to follow him.

Mollie watched as Micah dropped his arm from around hers and turned on his heel to head in the opposite direction towards the throne room. It had taken a couple months but Mollie had finally managed to navigate her way around certain parts of the fortress. 

He seemed to notice that her eyes were still on him as he reached the end of the corridor. Before he could disappear around the bend, he turned his head in her direction. With a soft smirk and a quick wink he disappeared around the bend. 

Mollie felt her stomach flutter with butterflies and her cheeks burned as she quickly moved to follow the guard who was scowling as he began the journey up the flight of stairs to their bedroom.

Maybe there was hope after all.

***

Mollie groaned as she made a move to clear the candlewax that had gathered near the floor of her headboard. 

Cécily seemed excited to see Mollie again and took extra time in seeing to her needs following the long journey back from _Courchevel._

Mollie had to admit, even though she had only been gone for a single night she had missed the girl too.

Her back ached as she straightened up to dump the leftover wax into the thin metal containers that lay below the candelabra. Mollie never got backpain. She figured Micah’s treatment of her body during the ride back to the castle had been a bit more vigorous than she had first assumed. 

She sighed when she saw the last of the matches had been used up on the edge of the fireplace. She knew the cabinet was just around the corner on the first landing near the kitchen and she figured she might as well go herself. After all, Cécily had done nearly everything for her since she had arrived. 

Her nightgown was thin and she grabbed her yellow cloak on her way out, making sure to drape the warm material fully around her body as she slipped her feet into her boots. She would be quick...

***

Mollie was lost.

She was sure the cabinet was around the first corner of the landing and she shuffled forward brushing her fingers against the rough corridor walls in the hopes that the familiar mahogany cabinet would appear in her vision.

It was quiet on this landing. Unusually quiet and Mollie felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. 

Something wasn’t right.

She flipped the hood of her cloak up over her thick curls and made a move to return down the same hallway she had walked down earlier. 

She’d do without candles tonight. She felt a sudden fierce compulsion to return to her room as the wind whistled eerily from outside. She began to quicken her pace as the sharp squawk of a crow echoed from above her.

As the familiar staircase leading up to the second landing appeared at the end of the corridor Mollie spotted something at the edge of her vision that sent her previously speedy jog into an untimely stumble. 

Mollie jerked to a stop, her brown eyes widening as something large, furry and menacing filled her vision. 

The animal was jet black with fur darker than burning coal and its razor sharp teeth were bared as bright yellow eyes turned its gaze on the only other living being in its path.

Mollie felt the air leave her lungs as her flight or flight response kicked in faster than she could have anticipated. Her legs moved on their own accord as she raced in the opposite direction of the corridor, the torchlight flickering as the air whooshed past her.

She could hear its jaws snapping behind her and Mollie felt dread pool in her stomach as the pounding of heavy paws behind her grew closer and closer.

In a blind and frantic panic she threw herself around the corner and ran straight into something tall, monstrous, and draped in black.

The figure stiffened and Mollie cried out stumbling as the wolf scampered around the corner, its eyes flashing like a predator at its prey. 

Mollie felt her heart surge to her throat as James Lyon turned around his expression transitioning from hellish anger to something far more unsettling. 

“My my,” he said raising a dark eyebrow as the wolf snapped at Mollie from only metres behind the eldest prince. “What do we have here?”

Mollie couldn’t speak. Her voice was frozen, paralyzed somewhere in her trachea, unable to make the transition to her lips.

She was shaking, her legs like jello as James waved away the man he had been speaking to before Mollie’s grand entrance.

It was the second time Mollie had been nearly pounced on by a beastly pet of the Lyon brothers, but even she had to admit, Rowan’s wolf seemed tamed compared to the beast that stood in front of her now. 

_“Assis Napoléon.”_

The wolf sat down immediately, its tongue lolling from its mouth as it looked eagerly at its master. 

James turned to her, the smile on his face re-surfacing a memory Mollie wished she could forget. 

“What are you doing wandering the castle at his hour…so- _alone?”_

He looked around dramatically, as if expecting someone else to come around the corner. 

James clicked his tongue as his gaze returned to Mollie.

“Did you run off?” James sighed stepping closer as Mollie braced herself against the rough wall. “Did Micah scare you off? He can be such a… _bastard_ even at the best times.”

James chuckled after his comment and Mollie swallowed slowly. Her throat had gone dry.

“I must say, I’m surprised you’re still up and about –strutting around these ancient walls like you own the place. I find it quite amusing.”

Mollie often found it hard to see past the handsome charming faces of the Lyon men. But when it came to James, Mollie saw the ugliness that filled him from the inside mirrored on his outside. She found nothing about him even remotely appealing.

Without another word the eldest prince grasped Mollie harshly around the arm and pulled her down the corridor, as the wolf watched from behind, its yellow eyes trained on the stumbling girl. 

Mollie felt sick to her stomach as James pulled them into a cramped low ceilinged room with a single window overlooking the west tower. The light from the tower was the only shroud of light in the otherwise black room.

Snow spilled off the edge of the frame and Mollie began to pant as James caged her in.

His scent engulfed her and Mollie resisted the urge to cough at the spicy overwhelming odour that emanated from the man above her.

He was just so large and intimidating. Mollie stood no chance.

“How irresponsible of the Winter Prince to leave his little pet all alone at the dead of night.”

Mollie was quaking with fear. Her knees were knocking against each other and she braced herself against the stony wall, her nails digging into the rough stone.

James reached with his hand towards her and Mollie choked, her head recoiling to hit the stony corridor wall.

“Don’t.”

Her voice came out hoarse and desperate and she squirmed as far away from him as she could manage.

James smiled, his lips curling in a way that resembled a snake more than anything.

“Why do you shy away from the most powerful man in the country? There are woman who spread themselves for me everyday. You should be grovelling on your knees. Many would trade their lives to be in your position.”

Mollie was disgusted and she exhaled sharply as James flipped her cloaked hood down to expose her face.

His brown eyes bore into hers and she stared at him in unabashed fear as he scrutinized her features.

“What _is_ so special about you?” he murmured.

His fingers reached down to cup her cheek and Mollie squeezed her eyes tightly as his breath fanned her lips. He had bent down to observe here features more closely and she stiffened as his hand ventured upward to thread through her thick locks. 

Slowly, his fingers crept down to slowly unbutton the clasps at her throat and Mollie felt the tears prick her eyes as he gradually began to expose her front. 

He paused as his fingers brushed beneath her chin to rest at her neck. 

He chuckled darkly and Mollie snapped her eyes open to see an eerily delighted smirk on his face.

“Looks like you had fun today,” he whispered thumbing the bite marks that lined her neck. “Who knew Micah had it in him to be so…sensual.”

“Please,” Mollie gasped as she trembled in front of him. “Please just…let me-“

“Let you go?” 

James voice had taken on something mocking and Mollie trembled against the stone, the jagged ends digging into her back.

“Why would I do that?” he murmured. “A country rose such as yourself are hard to come by these days. Especially one in full bloom.”

Mollie braced herself against the wall as James leaned in to brush his nose against her jawline as his fingers curled around her throat. His body pressed against her like a heavy dumbbell against her chest. 

She felt another insistent nudge near her belly, something that made her blood run cold the minute it made contact with her body.

She had to do it. _Now._

With her eyes squeezed shut and her arms splayed straight against her sides Mollie lifted her knee at the precise moment James grazed his teeth against her earlobe and kneed the man in front of her with as much force as she could muster.

The grunt of pain filled her right ear as Mollie took off for the door running faster than she ever thought possible. She could hear the roar behind her as she bolted for the staircase at the end of the corridor which she knew led in the direction of the entrance.

Another voice was echoing down the hall. A regal sharp sound with a hint of disdain in that tone. 

She halted when she heard it.

That voice. She _knew_ that voice.

Mollie didn’t think twice – she didn’t even pause to think through her actions – she just ran allowing the epinephrine running through her veins to take full control.

 _“Rowan!!”_ she all but cried as she ran in the direction of the voice. 

She spotted him down the corridor speaking to a guard she knew only too well.

He jerked immediately when his name was called. Mollie didn’t even register that she was calling him by his first name. At that moment, informality was the last thing on her mind.

“Mollie?”

“Rowan!” she cried sprinting even faster.

He seemed surprised—very surprised to see her and she all but ran into his arms, the fear taking control of her lungs. She was literally gasping as she clutched the expensive cuffs around his wrists.

He was frozen as she clutched at him too afraid to turn around and see what fate awaited her.

His hands curled around her shoulders and he stood her upright as he looked down at her. His expression was difficult to read. He was certainly surprised to see her but Mollie could also see something else lurking behind those dark irises. Something sinister.

“One dance and you’re already running into my arms,” he said with a laugh. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and she cringed when she saw the glowering face of Gibbs in front of her. She had run straight between them.

Gibbs gave her a cold glare and she turned her face away as Rowan brought her chin upward to face him. It was something Micah did to her all the time and she cringed at the equivalence. 

“What has you running through the corridors of _Château de Glaçe_ at his hour of the night?” he said softly brushing his thumb against her blazing cheek. "You just couldn't resist me could you?"

“James,” she all but cried as she buried her face in his chest. Rowan’s brow furrowed and on cue the eldest Lyon himself appeared at the entrance of the corridor, his stance taking up the entire doorframe.

“Ah James!” Rowan said suddenly placing a hand on Mollie’s shoulder. “You came not a moment too soon. Your signature is required on these documents Gibbs has handed over to me.”

James ignored his brother and stalked towards them, his dark eyes staring hatefully at Mollie.

“I want that bitch buried six feet under this fortress.”

Mollie cringed as Rowan’s grip tightened around her shoulder.

“Now now James,” Rowan said with false gentleness. “That’s not how we speak to our guests.”

James’ eyes suddenly flickered to Rowans. 

“Is that what she is? A guest? Might as well extend our warm courtesy’s to the chambermaids as well.”

He sneered at her as he spoke. His face was flushed and Mollie could see the hellish murder in his eyes.

He stepped even closer and Mollie was suddenly grateful Rowan was here. She didn’t want to think what would have happened had she’d been alone.

“Tell her what happens to unsupervised sluts that roam the castle off leash.” he said softly, his dark eyes transitioning into something twisted and vile. 

_“Ça suffit James.”_

Rowan’s tone was flat and hard and Mollie watched their interaction in fear.

“I promise you Rowan. The next time Micah’s whore comes anywhere near me without an escort I won’t hesitate to gut it myself.”

Rowan sighed as Mollie trembled in front of him.

“There won’t be a next time James. Rest assured.”

James shot one last glare at Mollie before he stalked down the corridor, his black cloak billowing behind him like a cloud of smoke.

The hand on Mollie’s shoulder suddenly felt firmer and stiffer than she liked and she made a move to step forward. Rowans fingers tightened and Mollie suddenly felt her face go hot.

“You’re _very_ indebted to me now Miss Mayeson.”

Rowan had leaned down to whisper these words in her ear and she felt her heart soar to her throat.

Gibbs had kept that same indiscernible expression on his face as he watched their interaction in silence.

“Come with me.”

Mollie didn’t have much of a choice.

Rowan marched her down the corridor and around the back towards a door leading to the outside.

The chill hit her hard as it broke through her yellow cloak to sweep through her thin nightgown.

Gibbs followed behind them as Rowan dragged her through the snow. Mollie realized quickly that Rowan was leading her farther and farther away from the château and she began to squirm out of his arms.

For all she knew, he could be leading her straight to her death. She feared she may have escaped the lions den only to jump into the shark tank.

She did the only thing she knew could save her.

“Micah!” she screamed as Rowan clamped his gloved hand firmly over her mouth.

It was almost as if Rowan knew this was coming and he didn’t hesitate to press hard on her mouth stifling any further chance of making sound. 

She stared at Gibbs who looked on wordlessly. Wasn’t he loyal to Micah? Didn’t he see what was happening?

Mollie felt her tears begin to fall as Rowan proceeded to drag her hands together and lift her effortlessly into his arms. 

“You may thank me for this one day,” he whispered as she began to scream and thrash against him.

Mollie squirmed and screamed against the cloth covering but it was useless. It was too tight and insulated for her to do anything. Instead she cried hopelessly as the middle Lyon led her further and further away from the fortress.

***

Mollie must have fallen asleep at some point as a sharp incline had her head knocking sharply against a sturdy chest.

The cloth was off of her face and as she opened her bleary eyes she caught site of a group of people head to toe in black standing at the edge of what appeared to be an icy ocean. She was freezing and she felt herself shaking as Rowan carefully disentangled himself from her. 

She felt groggy and ill as Rowan placed her on her feet. She struggled to find her balance as Rowan removed the scarf from around his neck and proceeded to wrap it like a shawl around her shoulders.

“Delivered. All in one piece this time. Just as you requested.”

Mollie’s eyes shot up in shock as Rowan daintily dusted himself off and addressed the people who stood behind her.

Mollie was weak and frozen to the bone and she felt her vision go blurry as a strong leather clad hand curled around her shoulder and yanked her toward them. There must have been four our five of them and they all wore masks -- balaclavas that concealed their faces. Mollie had a terrible feeling she knew who they were.

“I believe this is more than enough of a reward to ensure my…immunity.”

Rowans soft tone had an edge to it and the large man that had his grip around Mollie nodded once stiffly.

“Lovely,” Rowan said with a small bow. “I will take my leave then... as well as my reward.”

Mollie watched in silent horror as he picked up a parcel handed to him by one of the figures dressed in black.

Before Rowan could walk away he paused turning to the group behind him.

“Shall I not make it back,” he mused, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. “Rest assured your boat will fail to dock at its final destination. I hope I make myself clear.”

With one last smile the middle Lyon left, the only reminder anyone was ever there in the first place being the deep footprints etched into the snow.

“Come with us little lady,” said a gruff voice as Mollie felt herself being roughly maneuvered into an old but modestly sized boat as the icy northern waters splashed up over the rickety transport. She gasped in pain as the water hit her ankles. The water was so cold it felt as if a dozen needles had pierced her and she stumbled falling fast and hard. 

All she saw was black.

***

Mollie cried out as her knees hit the wooden floor hard.

The boat was moving, fast and dangerously as the tables in the dark room Mollie found herself in shuffled from side to side.

She had barely regained consciousness when she found herself being brought hard to the ground.

_“Qu’est-ce qu’on va faire avec elle Cap?”_

The rough voice was right above her, the sword in his hand inches away from her neck. 

The blade pricked her throat and Mollie squeezed her eyes tightly. She couldn't look.

She didn’t even have the chance to scream as the man tugged her hair hard and pulled her forward.

She moaned in pain as her stomach clenched and her head ached with the sudden abrupt motion.

Thick lace boots suddenly filled her vision and Mollie jerked as a rough calloused hand cupped her chin and jerked it upwards.

Her vision, although slightly blurred was somewhat tangible. Deep midnight blue eyes stared at her from a deeply tanned face with sharp features that seemed vaguely familiar to her. His mask was off. The man was dressed no different from the people who had brought her here —black long sleeved tunic and dark slacks. The only sliver of brightness came from the honey blond hair that covered his weathered forehead. He was young in the face with a light faded scar on his left brow. It gave his boyish features a rough touch. 

He stared at Mollie for a moment, with harsh overt hatred and she gasped as he released her hastily his lip curling in disgust. 

“So _you’re_ Micah’s little pet hm?”

He was quite muscular, his biceps prominent even through the black tunic he wore.

“You may be more useful than I originally anticipated.”

Mollie couldn’t even speak, her throat was too dry and raw. 

Mollie realized that the other man who had addressed the blond man as "Cap," had spoken French. Were they a part of the Lyons monarchy? No...that was impossible. Whoever they were, they were important figures. Important enough for Rowan Lyon to have done business with them. Mollie felt another roll of nausea wash over her.

The guard holding her head suddenly came around to face her, his nose touching hers as he jerked her harshly from side to side.

“Speak when spoken to girl,” he cried out.

It was too much for Mollie to take, and she suddenly knew with horrid realization what was about to happen.

Ontop of the motion sickness of the rickety boat, Mollie felt her stomach clench and she retched, vomit spewing out of her mouth and directly onto the person in front of her.

Mollie heard him howl and drop her neck instantly as he backed away. The other one – the blond one with his mask off seemed irritated and he cursed and walked to the other side of the room as Mollie emptied whatever was left in her stomach onto the old creaky floorboards. 

The nausea had hit her so instantaneously she didn’t even have time to process it.

“You stupid cunt!"

Mollie folded herself in, waiting for the punishment that would await her but heard instead a sharp door slamming open.

“Where is she?”

Mollie felt as if the nausea again would hit her full force when she heard that voice.

She looked up in fear to see the man that had brought all of her worst nightmares to life come true and she screamed. She screamed and screamed as she felt a sudden presence beside her trying to calm her down.

But she couldn’t. How could she? He was there. He was _right_ there.

The man seemed concerned as he looked at Mollie but she couldn’t see reason. She only saw _him._ He had taken her and he was going to kill her. That was it.

She was staring straight into the face of Hartley Lyon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys. This is the turning point in the story where secrets will begin to unfold and new characters will make their presence known. There will be a slight delay in the release of next chapter as I have already addressed on the tumblr. Thank you all again for reading this far into the story. You have my word things will begin to get real interesting from here on out...


	33. Arsenic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie gets reunited with the Insurgency. Mollie struggles with her feelings for the Winter Prince and her own internal turmoil. Her journey to Ophian Land begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot, plot and more plot.

“When will she wake up?”

This voice was female for sure and Mollie could hear it faintly through the buzzing.

“She should have woken up a day ago. Perhaps she reacted differently.”

God Mollie had never felt so terrible in her life. Her back ached, her head ached – everything hurt and she felt as if she may puke again.

There was a hard calloused hand that swiped her head and she groaned as it brushed against a tender spot on her forehead.

“She’s awake. She’s waking up.”

 _“Shh,_ not so loud Araya,” said another sharper voice.

“Should we tell her? I think we should.”

“No.” 

This male voice was sharp and authoritative and Mollie squirmed as she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked several times to see a bright white light shining down on her.

“Not yet. It will be too much to take in. Take it slowly. Day by day if we must.”

“In fact, it’s better she _doesn’t_ know. That way we can use it to our advantage…”

“How can she _not_ know?”

There was a silence that followed and Mollie clutched at the warmth enveloping her body. She was almost too warm now. Could she not acclimatize to anything these days?

“Where am I?”

Her voice came out more croaky than anything. She squinted in front of her. Her vision was blurry and her lips dry as she struggled to focus. There was a sudden shifting sensation and Mollie had forgotten that she was, as of now, somewhere in the middle of an ocean on a ship. Her memories began to filter in. 

“Safe. You’re safe.”

Mollie blinked open to see familiar dark eyes staring at her. 

Mollie’s jaw nearly dropped when saw him, but she knew he was real and he was in front of her.

“Caleb?” she breathed. She blinked a couple times more to be sure but there was no mistaking it. 

He gave her a half smile. It seemed strained and tired but it was there.

“Hey kid.”

She turned to the person beside him, into the eyes of a pretty girl with big brown eyes. She had caramel hair chopped into a short bob and a tanned skin tone. She seemed unnaturally dark, as if she had spent a long time in the sun and her skin had simply darkened to maintain its integrity. 

She gave Mollie that same stiff smile. 

Mollie groaned as she clutched the side of her head.

“Where are we?”

Caleb turned to look at the girl beside him before turning his dark eyes back to Mollie.

“Halfway to the Ophian Empire.”

Mollie swallowed uneasily. _Micah. James. Rowan. The boat...._ it was all coming back to her.

“Rowan,” she whispered her eyes going wide. She felt her jaw flex and her blood boil just thinking about him. “He…he did this. He’s working for you?” 

Caleb exchanged glances with the girl again. He seemed unsure…almost mistrustful and he reached over to pat Mollie’s shoulder gently.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

Mollie turned to him suddenly. 

“You were never supposed to be taken away from Questershire. We...we would have never allowed that.”

“What are you talking about?” Mollie whispered. 

He hesitated as Mollie felt tears fill her eyes again. But these were not tears of sadness nor tears of physical pain. These were tears of betrayal, tears of gross injustice. 

“You’re... _sorry?”_

Her tone had gone bleak and Caleb put his head down. The girl also avoided eye contact and Mollie wanted nothing more than to hurt them. Hurt them in the same way they had hurt her. She had been abandoned and forced into the role of a concubine. Where were they when she was being pounded into the sheets? Where were they when the Lyons had brandished a dagger at her throat? 

_“Yes,”_ Caleb said forcefully. “We are truly sorry. But...understand Mollie. We can’t trust you yet, not when you’ve been in contact with the Lyons for such a long period of time. You may still be the enemy-“

“Go rot in hell,” she responded. “Get out, both of you.”

Her voice had taken on a dangerous fiery tone and she felt her knuckles flex as she stared hatefully at Caleb.

A voice in the back of her mind wanted to tell her -- _remind_ her that this wasn't his fault entirely. But her anger was surpassing all of her emotions. It was consuming her and she wanted to lash out. She was _thriving_ off the hurt and despair that had accumulated inside of her.

“Get. _out._ ”

She didn't have to repeat herself again as they both quickly scuttled out of the room drawing tight the thick curtain that acted as a barrier to the other parts of the cold empty room. Mollie stared at it for some time until their footsteps disappeared entirely, letting her intangible thoughts of hate, despair and betrayal build within her as it brimmed over the corners of her heavy aching heart. 

***

Mollie lost track of how much time she spent alone in her isolated corner of the rusty underground level of the rickety transport vessel. 

Every once in a while someone would drop in to slide food and water under the curtain. At first Mollie had rebelled. Kicking away whatever they gave her – refusing to speak to anyone who wanted to talk to her. But her rebel nature had been exhausted. For how much longer could she keep up with this? It wasn’t doing her any benefit to let her anger block her common sense. 

She had spent most of her time staring at that thick of wall of curtain in front of her, letting the sound of heavy water hitting the vessel become a constant lull in her mind. She was losing track of the days -- no different than when she had been a prisoner of the winter prince. The construct of time and space had become a bitter enemy to Mollie these past few months. It seemed to creep up on her like a benign tumour...only to metastasize once it reached its full potential, leaving her vulnerable and bewildered in a land that predicated on the ideals of natural selection. 

Today was no different from the day before or the day before that for the skinny frail girl as she sat alone with her chin on her knees on the low firm bed in the back corner of the third floor of the moving vessel. She rocked slowly on her knees, the fuzzing threadbare quilt sinking into her skin when she noticed a tall shadow outside the curtain to her little space. 

Her lack of interaction with people had made her somewhat anxious and she tensed as the figure stood elegantly outside, awaiting her approval before it slowly inched the curtain to the side.

Pale fingers inched backwards the thick material posing as a weak concealment to Mollie's cramped room as a voice permeated through the air. 

“Can you spare a minute?”

That soft lilted voice jerked Mollie from her light slumber and she clutched the sheets tightly. 

Mollie looked up into that face…a face that sent a horrible chill down her spine and made her blood run cold.

She felt her throat swell up and she froze as the man walked casually into her little makeshift room. Mollie figured he was trying his best to come off as non-threatening as possible but there was no denying who he was. His features were too defining.

“What..who..how...”

Her voice trailed off and she stiffened as he stepped closer to her.

She was already reaching out from beneath the blanket on top of her towards the bedside table, for something – anything to put between her and the man coming toward her. 

“I’m not who you think I am.”

His voice was cool and collected, with that same air of authority but also… different. There was something warmer here...something less demanding. 

“See?”

He stepped even closer, testing the waters out before he felt entirely comfortable.

Mollie was frozen, the fear still gripping at her like damp moss on the banks of a swamp. 

“Look closely Mollie.”

He wore an airy dark blue shirt that hung loosely over black pants. Mollie was struck by how common...how _un_ royal it was. 

As she observed him more closely, Mollie could finally see there _were_ differences. Differences that she hadn’t noticed the first time.

His hair was blond. Much blonder than the man she knew and he seemed younger around the edges of his face. He had kind blue eyes but that same sharp nose and sculpted jawline. 

_Could it be?_

“Don’t be afraid Mollie,” he said softly. He lifted his hands up anyways as if to show he had nothing in his pockets or anything else that could potentially harm her. 

“May I?”

He gestured to the chair in front of her bed and she looked blankly up at him. 

Mollie realized with embarrassment that he was awaiting her confirmation and foolishly she nodded.

He was handsome, very handsome in an odd older mature kind of way and Mollie found herself blushing as he leaned forward on the bed to look her in the eyes. He too was tanned but not so much as the girl she’d seen the other day. His was a nice kind of tanned - the glowing bronzed kind. 

His muscles strained against his shirt, a testament to years of training and he seemed concerned, not for himself but oddly enough as if it were for her.

Mollie brushed her wild curls away from her face as he leaned in to address her directly. 

“My name is Caius,” he said softly.

Mollie stared at him in shock.

“You’re dead,” she whipped out.

He half smiled at her when he heard this. 

“Supposedly.”

“I don’t understand?” Mollie felt ridiculous tears begin to well up in her eyes again and she looked away as they began to trickle down her cheeks. She didn’t know why she was crying. She shouldn’t be. It was ridiculous. The man hadn’t even said anything triggering as of yet. It was as if she couldn’t keep a hold of her emotions and she began to hopelessly sob as the tears kept on flowing. 

“There there,” he said softly. 

He leaned in and wrapped his strong arms around Mollie as she cried and cried.

“It’s alright now. You’re alright now.”

He murmured soft words of affection as she openly broke down. Mollie had never had a man do this to her or treat her so kindly. She almost didn’t know how to react to it as he brought a handkerchief from his pocket and delicately dabbed at her tear stained face.

“From the bottom of my heart,” he said quietly rubbing a comforting hand against Mollie’s cheek. “I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through. I couldn’t be more sincere when I tell you this.”

He paused as Mollie sniffled and tried to quiet down her heavy breathing.

“No apology will make up for what you’ve experienced. I know this,” he said. Mollie saw his eyes flicker to her abdomen before snapping back to her face. “But you’re in safe hands now.”

He gave her another re-assuring squeeze as he stood up. He was tall – all these Lyon men were – but for once it wasn’t intimidating. It felt protective.

“Zen, come in here.”

Mollie watched as the boy that had been particularly cruel to her during the transition from the boat to the ship entered.

He looked like a younger version of Caius and Mollie squirmed as he narrowed his eyes at her. He was still as chilly and as unfriendly as before and Mollie figured he hadn’t had a change of heart.

“What?”

His tone was stiff and unwilling and Mollie averted her gaze.

“Change the dressing on Mollie’s wound and fill her in. The sooner she knows how things work around here the better.”

“Why me?” Zen asked grudgingly shooting her another distasteful glare. “Ask Araya to do it. She's been the one doing it for the past few days anyway. The concubine-”

“Her name is Mollie.” 

Caius’s tone had gone hard and cold and she shivered as the young boy went silent.

_“S’il vous plait mon fils. Pour moi.”_

Mollie watched the boy roll his eyes but drag himself forward as his father gave Mollie another re-assuring smile before leaving the room.

Mollie wiped the remaining tears from her face as the boy looked at her with poorly concealed revulsion. Mollie wished she could say she was used to it, but it still hurt. 

“You can go,” she said brushing her tear stained curls from her face. “I can take care of myself.”

The boy frowned at her and narrowed his eyes.

“I’m following orders. I don’t care if you can do it yourself.”

His voice came out hard and rough and she recoiled at the animosity. He didn’t even try to hide it.

“Tilt your head back.” 

Mollie kept silent and leaned back till her head sunk into the soft pillows behind her.

The boy although hard and cold from the exterior was soft when he attended to her.

He didn’t talk to her again and he avoided eye contact. 

He was quite muscular and about the same height as his father. His golden locks lay messily on his forehead and he too had a deep tan as if he had spent days out in the sun. Mollie moaned in pain as she shifted, feeling a particular painful throb in her belly. She’d been feeling it for a couple days now but she figured it was stress related. 

The boy’s eyes suddenly flickered to hers and she felt her face flame. 

“You better not hurl again,” he muttered putting a fresh bandage on her forehead. “That was disgusting.”

She didn’t feel nauseous today. Not at all, in fact she was starving. And almost as soon as the thought came into her mind she heard her stomach growl.

If she was embarrassed before, Mollie was now mortified.

It seemed to echo in the chilly room and Mollie watched as the boy froze, the sound taking him by surprise as well. 

Mollie watched him quietly as he exchanged the old dressing on her forehead for a new one and she followed his movements as he moved towards the small basin beside her to washed out her old cloth dressing. His eyes reminded her of the glaciers in Icedalar. Cold, blue, and eerily reflective. 

“That should do.” He muttered getting up from the bed quickly. “Araya will come in to see you later.”

He was out of the room faster than Mollie could respond and she slapped a hand to her forehead in defeat. She winced as her fingers brushed the cut on her forehead.

Her memories began to flood back slowly and instead of the fear that had gripped her since the moment she had been dragged onto this boat, she felt raw anger fill her. 

She wondered if Rowan had returned to the chateau? Surely by now Micah must know she’s missing. 

And Cécily.

Mollie suddenly felt sick thinking about her. It wasn’t her fault, not in the slightest and she prayed nothing happened to the girl. She had been Mollie’s saving grace through all of her horrors at the fortress. She wondered if Micah would know. Would he know the truth? He certainly didn’t know that Rowan was a backstabbing conniving greedy arsehole who had been working with the Insurgency. Mollie figured for some time too.

She still had the necklace around her neck. The necklace Micah had given her and she touched the delicate silver gently.

She should take it and throw it. But something in her stopped her from doing it. Instead she left the precious metal dangling from her neck. Everyone saw her as Micah’s concubine anyway. There was no point hiding the evidence. She sighed and collapsed into the pillows. She wished she never felt so tired…

***

“More?”

Mollie looked up in embarrassment when she realized she had finished her plate well before everyone else had.

She made a move to shake her head but heard another girl click her tongue in annoyance.

“Why would you ask her?” she snapped chastising another member of their group. “Just give her more. She needs it anyway.”

Caius shot her a look and the girl sheepishly looked at Mollie. 

“You’re far too skinny. You need it.”

Mollie thanked her quietly as she began to dig into the food. It was an intimate but also rather awkward gathering. It was also the first time Mollie had ventured out of her room and come into contact with anyone other than the people who had previously come to visit her. She could feel people staring at her when they thought she wasn't looking and Mollie tried her best to ignore it. Her hair had been neatly plaited into a long braid that flowed down her shoulder and she had taken to absent-mindedly twirling the end of it to avoid making conversation with anyone.

Caius sat at the head of the table, he hadn’t eaten all that much but he had more so than his son who sat stony faced beside him and across from Mollie. He hadn’t touched his food at all and seemed more intent on making Mollie feel insignificant and out of place than she already felt. Mollie quickly began to see that Arayalynn – the girl she had seen on her first day here- was kind. She treated Mollie like one of their own and went out of her way to make the her feel better.

“So... where are you from Mollie?” 

Arayalynn asked, breaking the painfully awkward silence.

Mollie grimaced. She hated having to be put on the spot when she already felt like an outsider.

She picked at the steamed vegetables on her plate, the hunger pains suddenly subsiding. 

“Why don’t you ask Caleb,” she mumbled shooting the older man a glare. 

Caleb sighed deeply. Mollie couldn’t help but harbour a personal vendetta against him.

Arayalynn frowned. 

“Alright how about I start then? Someone’s got to break the ice at some point.”

She addressed Mollie directly and tucked her short bob behind her ears.

“I’m Arayalynn Lyon. I was born and raised in Questershire where I spent much of my childhood before Hartley and his goons put a bounty on my family’s head. My mother and I barely escaped… but the Ophians were kind of enough to offer us refuge in their lands.” 

She spoke extremely quickly and Mollie had to struggle to keep up with her. She was overly confident and Mollie could tell the others were slightly wary of her.

“We’ve been working long and hard to bring down Hartley and his empire,” her eyes brightened when she locked eyes with Mollie. “But now that we have you I know we’re that much closer.”

“Arayalynn.”

Caius’ warning tone made the girl falter and she scowled at the man seated at the head table. 

“Slowly,” he warned in a stern but comforting tone. “Mollie is still recovering. She doesn’t need an information dump just yet.”

“Calm down,” Arayalynn scoffed with a dramatic eyeroll. “Mollie and I are going to be the best friends, I can already tell.”

Mollie lurched forward abruptly, a sudden wave of vertigo hitting her.

“Mollie!”

“I got her!”

Mollie felt a strong hand grip her as she wobbled on her legs.

She had no idea how Arayalynn was able to make it to her side so quickly.

“I’m fine,” she brushed off steadying herself. This had been happening to her a lot lately. These random bouts of nausea and dizziness. She just hoped it was a side effect of her chronic stress.

Arayalynn hesitated looking back at Caius.

The movement of the ship was making Mollie’s situation worse and she felt as if she were going to vomit again.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she gasped, clutching onto Arayalynn’s arm.

“To the top deck we go,” muttered the girl as she helped Mollie up the stairs.

***

Mollie was sprinting by the time she made it the top deck and she all but emptied her dinner into the rough icy waters.

Arayalynn helped hold her hair back as she vomited over the railing. 

She groaned as she slid down the metal railings to her knees the dizziness consuming her.

“How long till we get there?” Mollie muttered wiping her mouth.

Arayalynn sighed. 

“Not for another 2 and a half weeks…and that’s with _good_ weather.”

Mollie felt her heart sink. She already felt claustrophobic running into everyone on the boat and she glumly looked down.

“Hey come on,” Arayalynn said giving Mollie’s arm a gentle tug. “The less you think about it the faster time will go.”

But Mollie couldn’t keep her mind off of it. Not for one second. She couldn’t keep her mind off the icy landscape of _Icedalar,_ the feeling of cold tile against her bare skin --the gentle smirk and the soft wink from the lush green eyes of the winter prince. 

It was the last time she had seen him. With a jolt Mollie realized it may have been the last time she ever would see him.

And for some reason her heart ached at the thought.

She felt as if she had brought Micah Lyon back to life, made him see a reason to continue forward. He had been so empty and void of feeling when she had first met him. Little did she know there was a person, a soul that existed within him. A soul that needed to be coaxed and enticed. A soul that needed to be nurtured to remain viable.

“Mollie?”

Mollie looked up abruptly. 

Arayalynn bit her lip. But instead of pulling Mollie up to her feet and guiding her back below deck, she plopped herself down beside the girl and let her legs dangle off the railing. It was still quite cold out, and they both wore heavy cloaks over their clothing, but Arayalynn didn’t seem to mind all that much. 

“Yellow’s your colour Mollie,” she said with a grin. “You wear it well. Just like her.”

Mollie looked at Arayalynn. 

“What do you mean?” she asked quickly.

Arayalynn sighed brushing a hand through her choppy haircut.

“Caius isn’t my father you know,” she said quietly looking out into the distance. 

There wasn’t much to see apart from small icebergs scattering the open sea and a heavy grey fog hanging in the air.

“He’s my uncle.”

Mollie looked at her in shock.

“My father…was Atem Aemilius Malcolm Lyon. True king of the Lyon Empire. He was king for probably an hour or less give or take.”

Mollie listened silently. Her head was still spinning but the cold air offered some comfort to her blazing skin.

“You were there weren’t you?” Mollie whispered. “You were there when Izabel…”

Arayalynn put her head down, choosing to stare at her dangling legs. 

“I was young. But yes. I remember that day quite vividly.”

She sighed clasping her hands together. The girl was toned and muscular, an odd figure for a woman of her age and status, and Mollie noticed she had scars that crisscrossed across her arms as if she had been in combat. She looked down and turned her gaze away as Araya began speaking.

“For the longest time it was just James, Rowan and I in the Questershire manor. We were young, around 5 maybe. We only had each other for company, we didn’t really mix with anybody else.”

Mollie cringed.

Arayalynn smirked at her reaction.

“Come on. Give me _some_ credit Mollie. You really think I’d let those two sticks in the mud get away with bullying me? Please.”

Mollie smiled lightly. Arayalynn reminded her of Phoebe with her free spirit and boisterous nature. 

“James used to play rough. Always did. I used to beat his ass each time we engaged in a fight. He couldn’t stand it since I was a girl,” she seemed proud as she told Mollie about her memories. “I think it hurt his ego just a little bit.”

Mollie didn’t return the smile this time. The memories she shared of James Lyon were too traumatizing to sift through. She wanted her to change the subject.

“What about Izabel Lyon?” Mollie asked tightening the cloak around her. “What was she like?”

Mollie didn’t know why, but she felt so strongly for the deceased young girl and her tragic story. Everyone seemed to have adored her – cherished her. Mollie wanted to know why. She wanted to know what it was like to know someone as soulful and kind as Izabel. 

Arayalynn hesitated before she spoke.

“To be honest with you Moll, I didn’t see her a whole lot. She was always gone with my father or Hartley on some royal expedition.” 

Mollie felt her cheeks flare at the nickname Arayalynn had used for her. The girl barely knew Mollie but as she sat here beside her, Mollie felt as if she’d known the girl her whole life.

Mollie was a little disappointed to hear that but Arayalynn continued speaking as if sensing the girls dejection.

“She was really pretty though,” Arayalynn said with a smile. “Pretty and elegant. She was always well put together you know? And she gave the best hugs. She had this long thick hair…blonde I think,” she said biting her lip. “She was the best. Gave a whole new meaning to what it really meant to be a Lyon.”

Arayalynn trailed off a bit after this and Mollie joined her in staring out at the horizon. The sun had long since settled and Mollie could make out the slightest navy colour making its way from the top of the fog towards the innermost layers. 

“I guess that makes you a princess doesn’t it?”

Arayalynn laughed at Mollie’s comment.

“Trust me, that stuff doesn’t matter out here Mollie," she said with a chuckle. 

Mollie shivered in the cold and Arayalynn turned toward her watching as the girl tightened her cloak around her shoulders.

“We’re going from one extreme to another you know,” she said with a sigh. “Ophian land is known for its harshness. A _different_ kind of harshness.”

Mollie looked at her confused.

“It’s a desert wasteland,” she explained. “The North is bad..I agree. But with the cold, you stand a chance at survival. The cold doesn’t kill you right away. It settles in your bones first…and permeates through the layers of your body slowly… sucking the life from you hour by hour.”

She paused for a moment her tone suddenly lifting.

“You lose a couple toes and fingers but…at least you’re alive. In the East, the heat doesn’t wait.”

Mollie bit her lip.

Arayalynn hesitated. 

“You get heatstroke. Not coldstroke. There’s a reason for that.”

Mollie half-smiled at her attempt to lighten the mood.

Arayalynn chewed her lip as she looked at Mollie and Mollie knew the girl was burning with curiosity. Arayalynn had opened up quite readily to Mollie but Mollie had been through a lot…she didn’t know if she was ready to divulge just yet.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Arayalynn started picking at the thread on her sleeve. “But most people who bottle things in end up breaking apart later. It helps to talk about things before that happens.”

Mollie sighed.

“I know,” she said rather warily.

The silence wore on and Mollie came to realize the girl beside her couldn’t really keep quiet. She was a full on chatterbox.

"I'm happy to see that you finally decided to join us today. I was worried you would never leave the third floor of this vessel and get to see what else is onboard the _Alastor._ She paused for a moment before continuing in her quick chirpy tone. “Though I should probably tell you about the others…considering we’re all going to pretty much be roomies for the next couple of weeks.”

Mollie frowned.

“Caius is in charge of course. He wanted to make the trip out personally. Caleb is second in command. Julien is in charge of steering the vessel and his wife Pauline manages the kitchen. Jöel is in charge of the operational and training facility on the third deck. You haven’t met him yet. ”

“Let me guess,” Mollie interjected. “The blond one and his partner are the musclemen?”

She still wasn’t happy with the way they had thrown her onto the ship on her first day aboard the vessel and she noticed how Arayalynn grimaced at the memory.

“I’m sorry about that,” she murmured tousling her short bob once again. “Zephyr is emotional and Caden just… feeds off of it.”

Her voice dropped lower and Mollie had to lean in closer to hear her.

“Zephyr has been in a foul mood ever since the rotten Winter Prince captured Isaac.”

Mollie stiffened. 

“Isaac is sort of the baby of the group,” she explained. “It hasn’t been the same without him.”

She balled up her fists and Mollie quickly felt a wave of nausea wash over her again.

“We’re going to get him back,” Arayalynn said hotly. “And when we do we’re going to rain down hard on the fucking Lyons.”

Mollie hesitated before she spoke.

“Are you all…related?”

She was desperate to change the subject. Her guilt for getting Isaac captured gnawed at her. She felt responsible. 

Arayalynn laughed lightly.

Mollie realised she seemed a bit…embarrassed but she continued speaking anyways.

“Well…not exactly. Isaac and Zephyr _are_ my brothers.”

Mollie paused.

“I thought you said Caius wasn’t your father.”

Arayalynn went red.

“Yeah,” she said scrunching her face. “He’s not.”

Mollie suddenly knew the root of her discomfort and she quickly dropped the subject. 

“I guess technically we’re half siblings, but in our group, everyone who is on our side is family. That’s a fact.”

Mollie nodded as if in understanding. She swallowed the uncomfortable truth in the back of her mind reminding her that Arayalynn was direct cousins with the Winter Prince and his brothers. 

“That’s nice…that you look out for each other.”

Arayalynn looked sharply at her.

“You’re family too Mollie. I know it took a while, but we did come back for you. We never would have stopped trying to.”

Mollie just looked down. She didn’t know what else to say.

“Caleb was pissed after Isaac couldn’t get you out. We thought at least one of you would have been able to smuggle out of Questershire…”

Mollie laughed humourlessly. 

“Right.”

Arayalynn grimaced. 

“Is he…Is he okay?”

Mollie glanced at Arayalynn. She knew the girl was referring to her younger brother.

“I…I really don’t know,” she said shakily. “It has been months since I last saw him. Micah told me that he’d spare him.”

Arayalynn went quiet as Mollie spoke.

“You don’t know where do you?” 

Mollie shook her head. She wished she could be of more help.

“What’s he like?” she whispered. Her tone was flat with unsuppressed rage and Mollie jumped at the dramatic shift in her tone.

“Who?” Mollie asked feigning ignorance.

Arayalynn scoffed.

“Micah fucking Lyon that’s who. What’s he like? Is he as cold hearted as they say? After all you know him better than anyone else it appears.”

Mollie turned to look at her sharply.

“What makes you say that?”

She couldn’t help the animosity in her tone and she saw Arayalynn raise her hands quickly. 

“I’m just going off the rumours. Everyone is talking about you Mollie,” she whispered. “And I mean everyone. You’re kind of... famous.”

Mollie felt her face heat up. 

“Wha-What?”

“Come on,” Arayalynn pushed. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know? You think walking side by side with the Winter Prince wasn’t going to garner attention?”

Mollie turned away. She didn’t want to think about Micah right now. 

“The others think you’ve been around him too long to see reason. They don’t trust you enough. But I know you’re on our side Mollie. It’ll take some time for the others to see that. Especially my idiot brother –“

“Araya.”

The sharp voice came from behind them and Mollie tensed. Zephyr Lyon was slowly becoming her least favourite person on this claustrophobic vessel. 

She turned around swiftly. 

His blonde hair lay messily against his forehead as he crossed his arms stiffly and stared unsmiling at the two of them.

“You’re wanted below deck Araya,” he said stonily. 

Arayalynn sighed dramatically. 

“Can’t you see we’re having some girl time? You’re interrupting.”

He ignored her and motioned with his head for her to leave.

“I’ll catch up with you later Moll,” she said with a half smile. “Avoid looking down,” she added as she stood up and sauntered towards the staircase that led below deck. “It’ll make you less nauseous.”

With that she disappeared below deck.

Mollie swallowed thickly when she realized who her only company was. 

He didn’t say anything for a long time as he stared at her and Mollie felt horribly vulnerable under his gaze. 

Mollie guessed he was around her age from his somewhat youthful features but his weathered skin and large frame definitely made him appear older. Even if Mollie hadn’t known who he was she could have guessed he was a Lyon from those sharp features. Except for the eyes and the hair. That was different. 

“Refuge on this ship isn’t free.”

His deep voice pierced the air and Mollie cringed at its harshness. 

“You want food, you work. You want to rest, you work, you want protection? You work.”

He continued staring coldly at her.

“There aren’t servants here and nothing comes for free. Even the clothes on your back will cost you. The sooner you start, the better.”

Mollie frowned back at him. She didn’t like his tone. 

“You can work the kitchens starting tomorrow.”

With that he turned and walked away, heading towards the staircase leading below deck. 

Mollie sighed and looked out at the view for another moment.

She wondered if Micah knew what had happened. Did he know his brother betrayed him? She wondered if he cared.

She was free of him wasn’t she? Then why wasn’t she happy? Why did she feel a gaping hole in her chest?

She blinked away tears as she pushed herself to her feet.

She was back with the Insurgency – the very people who had put her in the position she was in now. Would her freedom come to her? Would they uphold their end of the bargain after everything? 

With a huff Mollie shuffled towards the staircase, the last of the smog overtaking the now black sky as the crescent moon reflected itself on the deep blue surface of the choppy sea.

***

“Like this dear.”

Mollie struggled to keep her eyes open as she aided Pauline in peeling the potatoes. 

There seemed to be an unusually high amount on the ship and Mollie eyed the many bags that lined the back wall of the cramped kitchen.

“Prevents scurvy,” muttered the plump woman beside her catching her gaze. 

Mollie nodded as she threw the skin into a small bin near the sink. 

She had woken up so miserable this morning. As if a weight had been resting on her shoulders, holding her down throughout the night. Her back ached, her chest ached, and she couldn’t seem to control her bladder. She had already run to the washroom several times in the past hour and already she felt drained after barely getting through the first round of her chores. 

Zephyr hadn’t been exaggerating. Work was a requirement and Mollie was already feeling it on her first day in. 

“Maybe a nap will do you some good dear.”

Pauline placed a comforting hand on her back in spite of Mollie’s protests.

“I can do it. It’s just the ship…it’s still making me nauseous.”

Mollie didn’t want to appear weak, it was her first day at up and about on the vessel since she had arrived and she didn’t need anyone to pity her more than she felt. Especially considering how she had broken down in front of Caius himself. 

Caleb didn’t say much to her and she knew he was harbouring his own guilt. But Mollie wasn’t ready to speak to him yet. Not for a long time. 

Pauline went quiet. 

“Yes, it…takes some getting used to. Give it a couple of days Miss Mollie. You won’t even notice it after that.”

Mollie grimaced. She hoped that would happen sooner rather than later.

With a grateful smile she placed the peeler down and dragged her feet towards her bed on the bottom deck. 

It was more of a sleeping quarter to be precise. Mollie shared the room with the other two females on board and the mens quarters were in the adjacent room, with only a wall to separate. It was…tight. They all had curtains surrounding the perimeter of the cramped bed but it still felt awfully communal. 

Mollie had quickly learned the layout of the ship and made sure to ingrain the directions in her head. It was larger than Mollie had first thought and she realized there were four levels including the open top deck. The female quarters were on the third floor right beside the kitchen on the port side and the mens on the opposite site near the starboard. The dining hall was on the second and the meeting rooms on the fourth. The bow also had a small office usually reserved for the captain but Araya had told her that was where Caius spent most of his time. The meeting rooms on the fourth floor were used mostly by Araya, Zephyr, and Caden for "training" as they had put it. 

Araya seemed reluctant to let Mollie down there but Mollie hadn’t minded that much. She wasn’t a physical person to begin with. She had no interest in those kind of endeavours.

She groaned as she passed through the cramped corridor of the boat using the railings to guide her way back to her room. The fatigue was consuming her mind like a hazy smog and she felt as if she may collapse right there. 

Mollie froze when something caught her eye. 

She turned halfway, the flickering lights in the corridor shedding a pale illumination on another figure around the corner.

It was a woman, an older woman and if Mollie hadn’t been frozen, awake, and startled she would have believed it were a hallucination. She was under the impression herself, Araya, and Pauline were the only women on board the vessel. Mollie hesitated. She hoped no other surprises were awaiting her for the next few weeks. 

The woman was staring hatefully at Mollie, her lips moving as she muttered something under her breath. She was in a gown, a long white one that stopped just above her ankles. Her long wiry hair was slightly matted and her cheekbones were overly pronounced due to the womans frail slim body.

Mollie felt her throat swell up. The woman was staring her dead on with cloudy blue eyes. Her expression was nothing short of pure lividity. 

Mollie didn’t feel like sleeping anymore and she backed away slowly, opting to catch her breath on the top level of the ship. The fresh air would offer her some relief. 

She pushed her feet upward, the spiralling metal staircase offering little support for her lean lanky frame.

Mollie yelped when she ran into someone—or something utterly solid and hard. She gripped the railings as an irritated huff was heard from above her.

“Are you fucking blind or just fucking stupid?”

Mollie recoiled quickly as Zephyr glared above her, his frame taking up most of the tight cramped space. 

He narrowed his eyes when he looked at Mollie and she saw his lips tighten.

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you working?”

Mollie locked her jaw and glared at him back.

She respected his position of authority, but she wasn’t going to let the son of the another Lyon boss her around, even if Caius was the Jekyll to Hartley’s Hyde. God knows she had already let that go on for long enough. 

“What are you, the work police?” she retorted pushing past him.

The blonde man blocked her way, his face looming over her as he caged her in. 

“No. I’m worse,” he responded.

His voice went lower, almost threateningly and Mollie scoffed. 

“I’m _terrified,”_ she whispered letting her tone bask in sarcasm. 

His face flushed and Mollie could tell he wasn’t used to being challenged. 

“You should be,” he muttered through gritted teeth as he descended a step further down the staircase so he stood directly above Mollie. “Because if Micah Lyon didn’t finish you off, I sure as hell will.”

Mollie fumed silently as he slid past her making sure to shove his shoulder against hers as he past so she stumbled down a stair or two. 

Mollie exhaled sharply and let him go. The last thing she needed was to make enemies within the Insurgency. 

Mollie finished her trek up the rickety staircase and stomped her way to the top deck where an icy breeze enveloped her frame. She had on extra coat on top of her cloak today and she was happy to inhale the fresh cool air after being below deck for so long. 

She let her negative feelings dissipate as she closed her eyes and let the wind run through her thick curls. She stiffened when a sharp heat began to emanate from her neck. Startled, Mollie looked down to see the metal _M_ on her necklace glimmer blue as it lay neatly against her neck. It was giving off heat from some reason and before Mollie could touch it she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

She whipped around nearly tumbling backwards as she swung hard into the railings.

“Easy there.”

She released a breath in shock as Caius stood in front of her his arms outstretched as if to catch her. 

He chuckled as she regained her composure and she quickly brushed her curls out of her face. 

“You’re rather agitated,” he said with a smile. “Relax Mollie. No one here is out to hurt you.”

Mollie frowned. She was tempted to tattle tale to Caius about his bratty son but she held her tongue. 

He pursed his lips as he observed her and she watched as he offered an arm out to her.

"You were actually just the person I was looking for," he said with a smile. "Would you be willing to accompany me to my office?" 

Mollie was surprised by the gesture. She knew Caius was no longer directly associated with the monarchy, but it seemed as if certain habits were ingrained. 

The gesture was all too familiar to Mollie but she trusted Caius. There was a warmth that radiated from him, a fatherly affectionate aura that made Mollie want to open up and tell him her lifestory. She almost forgot in that moment that he was a Lyon himself, and that the same blood that ran through the Kings' veins ran through his. 

“It’s cold up here, you’ll get sick if you linger here for too long.”

He was murmuring to her as he lead her gently back below deck so the dusty warmth of the air below deck simmered around them. 

He guided her down to the second landing of the ship where they passed the dining room and entered into another smaller room. It was cosy and warm with a little fire below a dusty mahogany mantlepiece. A desk was in front of a large round window overlooking the icy waters around them. 

“Have a seat Mollie.”

Mollie swallowed nervously and seated herself in front of the large desk that Caius had slowly walked behind so he could sit across from her.

Mollie still somewhat struggled to separate Caius from the King and she kept averting her gaze as he made them both a warm cup of tea. The resemblance was undeniably uncanny and she thanked him quietly as he pushed the drink toward her. 

She met his gaze and waited as he held the cup in his hand. 

He seemed to know what she waiting for and he gave her a half smile before he took a long sip first. It was an invitation – a signal that he came in peace with no ill intentions.

Mollie followed suit, taking a sip as Caius sat back in the leather chair pulling out a gold pocketwatch from his pocket.

Mollie’s eyes snapped towards it and Caius seemed to sense her curiosity. 

“My father gave this to each one of us,” he murmured showing Mollie the thick gold covering around the outside. An elegant _C_ was engraved on the surface and Mollie admired the expert craftsmanship. Relics like that were priceless.

“Said he got it forged in the volcanoes of the Obsidian Desert.”

Caius twirled the object in his hand. When Mollie looked closer, she realized with surprise that it wasn’t just a pocketwatch. It was a navigational tool, equipped with nautical and cardinal elements. The thin pick of the needle on the corner was pointing East and Mollie met Caius’ placid gaze. He really did have a beautiful eye colour. Strikingly similar to his sons.

Mollie shifted uncomfortably as Caius snapped it shut and slid it back into his left pocket. 

“Micah has one,” she murmured. “Just like that.”

Caius nodded. 

“I’m sure he does. One of many invaluable heirlooms”

He sipped his tea again as he inched closer to the table.

“But even priceless brass turns black Mollie. Remember that.”

Caius clasped his hands together as he leaned forward on the table and Mollie noticed that he too wore a ring on his pinky finger. 

“I don’t want to pressure you this early,” Caius started, looking earnestly into her brown eyes. “But it’s important you understand the gravity of our situation. The purpose of our mission.”

His soft blonde hair caught the light and Mollie wondered how he could possibly be related to people as sickening as the Lyons. He seemed too truthful…too honest…too _good_ to be associated with them. What went so wrong?

“It wasn’t fair what happened to you. And I’ll spend everyday trying to show you how sorry I am. Truly.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Mollie murmured.

Caius paused.

“Thank you for your assurances Mollie. That's kind of you, but I’ll address an injustice when I see it. And quite frankly I believe it _was_ our fault. We pride ourselves on our trust-- on our dependence—on our support of each other. I built this rebellion with the hopes of bringing down the very thing that broke the monarchy apart in the first place. Greed and selfishness.”

He paused again, taking a sip of his tea. He spoke softly but urgently and in his voice lay an adequate balance of fierceness and honesty. 

“A monarchy exists to maintain order, as a way to prevent people from lapsing into the selfish persona we all harbour inside of us. That is the reason we have governments, police, peacekeepers, enforcers of the region.”

Caius sighed.

“But the minute a person lets that power corrupt them, they become the very thing they swore they sought to destroy.”

His voice had taken on a rather dismal tone and Mollie bit her lip. 

“I stood by family through a lot of turbulent times Mollie,” he explained. “I protected them, I fought for them, I would have _died_ for them. That’s what family does.”

His fists balled up as he looked away from her for a moment.

“I don’t understand,” Mollie murmured.

Caius' eyes flickered to hers.

“I thought the Insurgency killed Logan Lyon?”

Caius frowned and Mollie saw fleeting remnants of pain creep around the edges of his face. It surprised her. 

“Logan... was his own demise.”

His voice was flat and with a shock Mollie realized that Caius still seemed to be grieving the loss. 

“Logan was deluded. Completely brainwashed by Hartley by the time we reached him. He dropped the anthrax before any of us could make the first move on him. Killed everyone in that city and the next city over.”

He exhaled sharply.

“Everything changed the minute Hartley put that bounty on my head and on my family’s.”

Caius turned to Mollie abruptly and she could see the pain in Caius’s eyes mirrored in her own and in so many people the Lyons had trampled on. 

“It’s one thing to murder others for your own gain, but it’s a whole other kind of evil to do it to your own family.”

Mollie stiffened at the sharpness in Caius’ tone. 

“But before I justify my actions, I think it’s only fair that you understand what it means to be a part of this family. What it means to grow up in this world of royalty and betrayal. I think it’s only fair you understand what justifies my actions to want to kill the only brother I have left.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't delay this. That was a mean cliffhanger I dropped that last chapter. Won't be too much smut coming up due to the heavy focus on plot and mystery. As always, thank you for reading xx


	34. Sélénium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further truths about the Lyons begin to unravel and Mollie comes to a life changing realization.

Caius had hesitated when Mollie removed her coat so she remained in only the vibrant yellow cloak atop her shoulders.

It was a similar shade to Caius’ hair and she wondered…

“Another relic,” he murmured with a small smile, his eyes on the cloak around her. “Take good care of that Mollie,” he added. “It belonged to a courageous soul.”

“Please,” Mollie said softly. “What happened to her?”

Before Caius could speak she saw his eyes zero in on the necklace glimmering around her neck.

He had stiffened and Mollie noticed his blue eyes had suddenly darkened. 

“Where…where did you get that?”

It was the first time since she had met him that she heard his voice come out cold and harsh. It was such a stark transition from his normally congenial tone and Mollie tensed.

Before she could respond he had stepped right up to her, seemingly gliding around the table to grasp her shoulder hard and observe the jewellery more closely. 

He seemed shocked and Mollie was suddenly nervous.

“Caius?” she questioned gripping the hard wood in front of her with her nails.

“This was hers.”

Caius’s whisper was so soft – so fleeting Mollie may have imagined he had never spoken at all.

“This was my sisters.”

Mollie felt her throat constrict when she heard this and she looked at Caius sharply.

“That’s impossible,” she whispered clutching the necklace to her throat. “You’re confusing this with Izabel Lyon’s locket. It’s different. Micah-”

The look Caius gave her reminded her so sharply of Hartley she scrambled backwards in involuntary fear.

"Micah gave this to you?" 

Mollie had gone silent. Caius' voice had come out blunt and incredulous and she felt her palms begin to sweat. 

“This isn't her locket,” he said harshly. “This is different. _This_ necklace is what Izabel was wearing the day she returned from the Ophian Empire. This...this is the necklace she was wearing the day she _died.”_

***

**_Questershire, 23 years earlier_**

 _Caius glanced upwards the sound only registering in his ears minutes later. The courts were empty, the decision hanging heavy in the balance as the King took his last breaths from the room above them._

_Logan pouted at the opposite end of the table not wanting to be a part of the meeting. Caius shook his head in annoyance. The boy was young and spoiled. He had told his father this many times but the king didn’t want to hear it. It would be foolish to leave the West in the hands of a whimsical 17 year old spoiled prince. Surely Atem would see this and make the appropriate call. It would be best for the monarchy – for the people._

_Atem was stressed, his knuckles clenching and unclenching as the footsteps echoed throughout the enormous fortress above them – backwards—forwards—backwards—forwards. It was as if God himself was taunting them – toying with their minds as he grappled with his decision to let the King live for another day or two._

_Hartley was silent as usual, seemingly bored as he twirled a goblet of whiskey in his hand. The gears in his mind were in motion -- Caius could tell – and he narrowed his eyes as the sound of children fighting suddenly filled the room._

_Caius could only assume what had happened this time and he rubbed his eyes slowly as the sound of Arayalynn’s sharp sobs could be heard echoing throughout the manor followed by boyish laughter._

_Atem shot Hartley a menacing look as servants could be heard from outside trying to placate the screaming girl. Hartley didn’t even seem to notice._

_“Pouvez-vous controller vos fils?”*_

_Atem’s voice came out hard and gritty but Hartley only smirked at the frigid response._

_“Les garçons seront toujours des garçons mon frère.”*_

_Caius sighed. Hartley’s two young sons were little monsters and it was common knowledge. Especially that older one. His insolence irked Caius in more ways than one._

_“Si tu avais un fils, je peux vous assurer tu comprendrais mieux.”*_

_Atem’s lip curled at the hidden insult but he didn’t engage. Not today._

_“Mes frères.”_

_Caius interjected swiftly. He was always the mediator between the two of them – always maintaining the peace. It was tiresome but it was his unofficial job at this point. He had been doing it for years._

_“Nous devrions canaliser nos efforts ver le problème actuel n’est-ce pas?”*_

_“J’ai faim,” Logan said suddenly. “Je ne veux pas être ici.”*_

_Caius glared at the boy his blue eyes widening before dropping back to the table in fear. The others ignored their youngest brother, their own thoughts too heavy to ignore._

_Caius had a soft spot for his youngest brother. Their mother had died when Logan was only four and she had babied him too much. He also had their mothers eyes, much like Caius. A deep sea blue that reflected the sky._

_Caius turned his gaze towards the exit, longing to be anywhere but in this cramped cold room. His eyes lingered over the tall beautiful princess – his eldest brother’s wife._

_She had always been a looker but today she was simply breathtaking. Her eyes met Caius’ from beyond the glass windows of the parlour. She wore white, her long flowy gown draping over her figure so elegantly – pronouncing the curves of her breasts and the shapely figure of her hips._

_When Caius met her gaze again she looked stressed, her blue eyes wide and her lips parted in fear._

_Caius didn’t even think twice. He got up from his chair and swiftly left the room, ignoring the angry calls from his eldest brother as the door shut behind him._

_“Isla,” he said sharply marching towards her. “Qu’est-ce que c’est le problème? Êtes-vous blessé?”*_

_She was shaking, her lips quivering – her hands quivering._

_Caius looked sharply upwards when he saw that someone else had entered the hall._

_Her yellow cloak was draped around her shoulders, highlighting her tall slender figure. Her thick blonde hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders and on her face was an expression of absolute lividity. Caius watched in silence as she marched up to Isla, her bright green eyes narrowed accusingly. Without a pause in her step, she proceeded to slap the woman harshly across the cheek._

_Caius doubled back in shock._

_“Je sais ce que vous avez fait.”*_

_Her voice was so uncharacteristically blunt. It shook Caius to the core._

_“Izabel!”_

_Caius gaped at his sister as she turned her stormy gaze towards him._

_He watched silently as Isla glared daggers at his sister, her lip curled in anger as she stormed off, her gown billowing out behind her._

_Izabel made a move to step around Caius and follow the princess but he stopped her, his grip on her slender wrist tightening._

_“Parle-moi Izabel, je t’en supplie.”*_

_She looked up at him with wide eyes, those green irises burning into his soul. He hadn’t seen her in a year since she had voyaged to the Ophian empire. And God how he had missed her. Her stunning smile, her fierceness, her determination._

_He caught sight of a shimmering necklace against her sunkissed neck, glowing bright against her smooth collarbone. It was new...a product of excellent Ophian craftsmanship he suspected. Their abundance of precious metals and jewels was unsurpassed by any other regime._

_“En Anglais Caius,” she whispered looking around her in fear._

_Caius furrowed his brow._

_“Pourquoi? Dois-je m'inquiéter de quelque chose ?”*_

_“Caius please,” she whispered clutching his arm tightly. “Someone might hear.”_

_He sighed pulling her off to the corner of the atrium, away from the doors leading into the parlour._

_“They’re coming after me Caius,” she whispered her eyes wide._

_“Who?” Caius said immediately his grip on her tightening. “Who is? The Ophians?”_

_She shook her head quickly. She was so frazzled – so fearful. It made Caius’ heart sore to see in her such a state._

_The Ophians had broken their temporary treaty settlement for the fifth time in less than a decade with the Lyons and Caius feared they may never be able to maintain a stable relationship with the Ophian empire. The King -- his father-- had been considering the monarchial transition to constitutionality, but the usurpation of sole power did not sit well with him. Caius was aware that the Ophians disliked the power disparity between the people and the government and this had been a driving force in their reluctance to maintain civil economic and political ties with their regime. Caius had hoped Izabel and Hartley's trip to the Empire as congenial diplomats could have potentially smoothed things out between them but Caius had a feeling things did not go as well as they had originally hoped. Izabel had been prepared to arrange a marriage with an Ophian prince anyway, that was the primary reason for her accompanying Hartley. Caius and Hartley did not get along well, but even Caius couldn't deny the man knew how to negotiate -- exceedingly well in fact. It was shocking to him as well as his father when they both returned -- Izabel without a prince and Hartley without a deal._

_"What happened in Anatarrin? Does this have anything to do with Isla?”_

_He hesitated as he asked the question._

_Izabel narrowed her eyes._

_“Trouble always seems to follow Isla. I told Atem I never liked her from day one.”_

_Caius smiled affectionately at her._

_“You’re too used to getting all the attention. That’s all it is.”_

_Izabel shook her head rapidly. She was still so on edge. Caius cupped her cheeks in his palms._

_“Please Izabel, talk to me. Who is coming after you?”_

_Izabel stared fearfully into her brothers blue eyes. She was shaking._

_“I don’t know. I don’t know what or who they are but…they came after me-us- Caius. They want something that I have-“_

_“What do you have?”_

_Izabel hesitated. She tucked a soft tendril of blonde hair behind her ear._

_“I...I can’t tell you.”_

_Her whisper was so fleeting Caius had to do a double take as he stared deep into his sisters eyes._

_Her words hurt him more than he cared to admit. He always treasured the relationship he shared with Izabel. They had always been transparent with eachother, since they were children._

_“You always told me everything. What changed?”_

_“Everything,” she whispered._

_The sound of arguing woman could be heard on the landing above them and Caius cursed._

_“They won’t even let Father die in peace. Everything is…spiralling out of control.”_

_He knew their voices. Isla and Porphyria were fighting again. The two women couldn’t stand each other…not so different from their spouses. Caius was well aware that Isla was bitter that Porphyria had been granted with the title of Queen despite being the wife of the second born prince. Rightfully, it should be Isla, but her unpopularity with his father had rendered her simply a princess in spite of her marriage to his firstborn. It ate at her, Caius could tell and Porphyria flaunted her title at any opportunity she got which only intensified their toxic relationship._

_“It should be you Caius,” Izabel whispered clutching her brothers fingers in her own. “Father should have insisted you succeed him as sole business proprietor, he has the power to do so.”_

_Caius stared at his younger sister in shock._

_“Nonsense,” Caius said with an air of surprise. “Atem will be a fine King of the North and Hartley of the South. I have no problem giving my position as CEO of trade to Atem. You know how much I despise sitting in that throne all day.”_

_He laughed but Izabel stayed silent._

_“Plus Atem is the oldest. It makes sense.”_

_Izabel frowned. Her thoughts seemed to be faraway._

_“It’s always those that seek the kingdom the most that drive it to the ground the hardest.”_

_Caius sighed._

_“Izabel…”_

_“Izabel!”_

_Hartley’s deep tone echoed down the hall and Caius hesitated as his sister ran from him to her other brother._

_He seemed shocked to see her and Caius frowned at the tense situation between them. Ever since their voyage to the East, Hartley had been strangely disconnected from the family. Caius sensed something off about the entire expedition and he planned on drilling Izabel about it later._

_“Hartley,” Caius said sharply._

_Hartley had his arm looped around Izabel, the two on their way out towards the massive grounds of the manor._

_“Yes?”_

_Hartley had that soft languid tone in his voice that made Caius want to knee him in the gut. It was the tone he used to use everytime he threw Caius or Atem under the bus to avoid a punishment from their father._

_“I’m taking Izabel out with me to the ball in Elysia tonight. She needs to get ready-”_

_“I’ll take her,” Hartley said cutting Caius off before he could finish. Izabel looked blankly at Caius, the emotion wiped clean from her face as Hartley ushered her outside into the foggy ambiance._

_Caius frowned._

_At this point, he knew something was off and he had every intention of getting to the bottom of it. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt his sister. And if Hartley had led her into some kind of danger in the East, Caius would make sure his older brother felt his wrath. It was about time he let people know that his kindness was not to be mistaken for a weakness._

***

“I still don’t understand.”

Mollie had her arms crossed across the table as Caius paced behind his desk.

“It could have been anyone,” Caius said softly his fingers rubbing his temples. "Everything happened so…quickly.”

He sighed.

“We all had a weapon on us and we all had it facing at each other. She wasn't there...she wasn't even in the room...then suddenly she was _there_ \-- bleeding and curled on the floor…”

Mollie hesitated as Caius closed his eyes, the vision obviously re-surfacing some unpleasant memories.

“She was wearing the necklace earlier that morning when I saw her. _Before_ she left with Hartley somewhere. But her neck was bare after her body was examined...”

“Why _M?”_ Mollie questioned. “Why was Izabel wearing a necklace that had the letter _M_ on it.”

Caius suddenly paled and before Mollie could probe further he had turned away from her.

The door opened loudly startling Mollie, and she turned towards the figure in the doorway and felt her stomach roil with rage.

Zephyr entered with a lazy look on his face. He all but ignored Mollie as he addressed his father directly.

_“La formation commence dans une heure.”_

Caius nodded absent-mindedly. Mollie could tell he was pre-occupied with his thoughts --with the news he had just learned. He looked as if he were going to be sick.

_“Papa, j’ai besoin que tu sois là pour me former.”_

Caius brought his fingers to his temples again and Mollie could see the stress evident on his features.

He suddenly lifted his head and turned to Mollie. He had a strange apprehensive look on his face as he observed her closely.

“Where is Araya?” Caius asked.

Zephyr frowned.

“Training as usual. That’s what she spends all day doing. She neglects the rest of her duties.”

His voice was harsh and rough, much like his exterior. 

Mollie noticed that Zephyr seemed to have just finished some sort of workout session. The ends of his blond hair were damp with sweat from hardcore exertion and his thin shirt clung to his muscular figure. His muscles rippled as he crossed his arms and Mollie did her best not to stare.

Caius turned to Mollie suddenly.

“Take Mollie with you.”

Zephyr looked as if he had just been severely insulted and Mollie felt her face flush.

_“Quoi?”_

Caius shrugged.

“I think basic combat would be a good skill for Mollie to learn. And seeing as she has lots of free time to spare, I’m sure she’ll have no problem fitting it into her schedule.”

Zephyr was pissed. Mollie could see it on his face. He did nothing to hide his feelings towards her. 

“The basics will suffice,” Caius said with a warning tone. “What do you say Mollie?” 

Mollie frowned and looked at Zephyr who was unabashedly fuming.

“Carry on Zen. I’m sure Araya would be more than happy to assist. I have some urgent things to see to.”

There was an edge to Caius' voice that Mollie noticed Zephyr had heard as well and he didn't push his father any more, even though his annoyance radiated off of him. 

Caius returned to his desk and Mollie slowly stood up as Zephyr glared at her from the entrance.

“Oh and Mollie,” Caius added before she could leave. “Thank you for your help…”

She nodded and meekly left the room, the feeling of Caius’ son’s cold glare burning a hole into her back.

***

Araya squealed when she saw Mollie sitting on the bench across from the wide clearing in the middle of the room.

Mollie guessed that this was room that must have at one point been used for storage of material. However it had now been transformed into a combat room filled with weapons along the wall and several wooden mannequins that were decorated with holes and missing limbs.

Zephyr was scowling in a corner as he listened to another member – Mollie believed Caden was his name – speak to him. 

“Don’t mind Zen,” Araya said with a frown. “He just doesn’t like new members. He has trust issues.”

Mollie felt as if Zen’s hatred toward her went deeper than mere distrust but she kept that thought to herself.

“But Zen is a formidable teacher. He trains all new members of the group. He’s the one to get you in tip top position for any sort of threat or danger.”

“Did he train you?” Mollie asked hesitantly as Araya flipped her short bob to the side so the ends curled around her ears. 

“Please,” she said an eyeroll. “He wishes. I may not look it but I’m in my mid thirties Mollie. I’ve been around a lot longer than little Zen has.”

Zen picked up his head when he heard his name in conversation and he scowled when he noticed Mollie beside his sister.

“He hates me,” Mollie muttered as Arayalynn scampered around Mollie.

“Nah,” she said absent-mindedly as she bunched Mollie’s long thick hair through her fingers. “He’s just…careful. A little too careful sometimes.”

Arayalynn released Mollie’s hair with a sharp exhale and crossed her arms.

“You have too much hair Mollie. You’re going to have to cut some of this off. It will weigh you down in battle.”

“Battle?” Mollie repeated. “What the hell do you mean? I don’t fight,” she argued stepping away from the girl.

“I know,” Araya said brushing her off. “That’s why we’re going to teach you.”

Mollie swallowed. Maybe she would have been better off just heading back to her room. 

***

“What do you think?”

Mollie was in front of the mirror in one of the back rooms of the training ground as Arayalynn circled around her.

It was a big change from what Mollie had quickly realized she had become accustomed to.

Instead of long silky gowns and hand stitched girly dresses she was clothed in a skin tight black suit that covered her entire body. Along the edges were silvery material with thick mesh covering around the ridges. It was full of pockets and crevices and Mollie felt stifled. She felt as if she were wearing a wet suit that was already wet. 

Araya had chopped her hair quite short, so it just brushed the edge of her shoulders instead of resting at her waist. 

She pinned it back and away from Mollie’s face into a slick ponytail that fell behind her.

She looked so different. Mollie didn’t even recognize herself. 

Mollie had to admit the suit was a bit tight around the midriff but Araya waved her off.

“Whose suit was this?” Mollie asked as Arayalynn helped clip her belt in place.

Araya fell silent for a moment and Mollie watched as the girl carefully tucked her straight choppy hair behind her ears.

“It’s Isaac’s,” she said softly crossing her arms. “He won’t mind if you borrow it, trust me.”

Mollie bit her lip and took a step back from the mirror. Her lean frame fit into the suit quite well but Mollie only _looked_ the part. She still had no idea how she was going to _fit_ the part.

“This is handcrafted Ophian clothing Mollie,” Araya said, suddenly serious as she turned her wide blue eyes towards Mollie. “The mesh covering is activated during any activity involving water and the layer underneath is insulating during cold climates.”

As she twirled Mollie around and showed her the different parts of the suit Mollie realized they had company joining them as three members of the group entered the room promptly.

“Great,” Araya said suddenly turning to the others. “She’s ready to get started.”

Zen was in the corner watching and Mollie tensed when she saw his mate beside him. The third person Mollie had never seen before and she didn’t know there was one extra member on the ship.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said swiftly taking a step toward Mollie. “I’m Jöel,” he said with a charming smile. Mollie blushed. He was very handsome with rich dark skin and a clean side part through rich black curls. He had dark eyes framed by a thick array of equally dark lashes with a smile that made Mollie instantly feel warm. 

“Mollie,” she replied shaking his hand. 

Araya gave Jöel a tender smile when she saw him and Mollie noticed how she touched his arm ever so slightly as she walked past him. 

Araya turned towards the other two and clapped her hands together.

“Caden. Zen. Let’s get started.”

***

Mollie really hadn’t done all that much so far but already her legs ached and her muscles were sore.

“Lift your arms higher Mollie.”

Araya had intervened straightening Mollie’s posture and adjusting her arms. 

“I can’t keep them up,” she muttered, the burning in her joints traveling straight to her brain. “It’s painful!”

Araya nodded.

“That will happen till it doesn’t. I’d be more concerned if you didn’t feel anything at all.”

Mollie sighed heavily.

“Timing?” Araya asked turning towards Joël who was working away at some machine in the corner. 

“A little delayed,” he said fluidly. “But that’s expected. Speed will improve with time.”

“Time isn’t exactly on our side.”

Zen had intervened and Mollie scowled as he strolled in shirtless tossing his shirt onto a nearby bench in the corner.

His sweat soaked muscles flexed as he walked towards the aged black wardrobe in the back.

“What’s in the wardrobe?” Mollie whispered to Jöel who had sauntered over to adjust Mollie’s collar.

Jöel smirked.

“That’s an armoury not a wardrobe.”

Mollie stiffened as Zen re-appeared with a long sword in his right hand. Mollie looked confusedly at Araya who grinned as her brother began to actively spar with her. She had but a simple wooden stick in her hand.

“Zen is rather fond of the desertblade.”

Mollie had heard only rumours about such weapons and she stared at Jöel in surprise. 

“Is he out of his mind?” Mollie whispered back harshly. “Those things are exceedingly dangerous. No one uses elemental blades anymore, it was said to be way too dangerous even for the person wielding it.”

Jöel seemed amused by Mollie’s reaction.

“I know.”

Mollie cringed as the two of them sparred at a speed that surpassed what Mollie had believed was possible. 

“I can’t do this,” she groaned sliding her hands down her face.

Jöel placed a gentle hand on Mollie’s shoulder. 

“We all start from somewhere Mollie,” he reminded her. “It only seems impossible now since you’re starting out.”

Jöel hesitated as Araya began to shout orders at Zen.

“You ever see the prince spar?”

Mollie looked down. She wanted to wipe any thoughts she had about Micah away but she knew it was impossible. 

“Not really,” she admitted with a frown. “I did try to disarm him once though.”

Jöel’s eyes seemed to bug out of his head and Mollie gave him a half hearted smile.

“It didn’t go over too well.”

“You're kidding?” Jöel whispered, his dark eyes bright. “How did you…how are you still alive? Mollie that’s crazy.”

Mollie frowned. 

“Like I said…it didn’t go over so well.”

Jöel’s face fell and he seemed to realize his question was a little too intrusive.

“I’m sorry,” he admitted with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have pressed you like that. I’ve just heard a lot about Micah Lyon. They say he learned how to wield a sword before he knew how to write.”

Mollie snorted.

“I wouldn’t believe everything you hear about the prince,” she said a little harsher than she intended. “And I don’t believe that to be true.”

Jöel shrugged. 

“I suppose you’re right. But the way he comes across, you can’t blame people for believing it.”

Jöel suddenly leaned in and Mollie watched as he removed something from his pocket.

“You know why I asked why you were still alive earlier? After you tried to disarm the prince?”

Mollie looked at him and shook her head. She wasn’t sure where Jöel was going with his musings.

“In nobility, it is custom that every person carry with them a dagger that they themselves designed and created after successfully completing their five pillars of training.”

Mollie blinked at him.

“What? Like a diploma after graduation?”

Jöel smiled. 

“Yeah. Exactly like that.”

"What are the five pillars?" Mollie asked curiously. 

Jöel laughed lightly.

"It's quite simple, really." He paused after this, as if reconsidering his words. "Well, in conversation it is but in practice not so much." 

He watched Zen and Araya spar with each other for a couple minutes before he began his explanation. 

"The first pillar is the G stone. It stands for _Guidance._ Without proper instruction from your coach you can't expect to proceed further in your training. Only once your coach deems you proficient do you move forward to the S stone. _Semblance._ Engaging in battle is all about expecting the unexpected. It is no different from a dance between two people or a duet on stage. The final performance will always be different from the practice session, no matter how much you train. But regardless of what happens, you maintain composure, even in the midst of chaos." 

Mollie swallowed uneasily as she took in his information. She didn't feel prepared for any of this. She was a simple baker from the country, not a warrior with years of training below her belt. 

Jöel continued. 

"The third pillar is the D stone for _Deliverance._ It is one of the most crucial stages of your training. 

Mollie turned to him confusedly. 

Jöel smiled at her again. 

"People always react that way when they find out the D stone is the most important pillar of them all. It never gets old." 

"I don't get it," Mollie interjected, her brows furrowing. "How can liberation be the most important pillar? Isn't being in battle the opposite of liberation? Aren't you trapped with the person you're fighting? Aren't you _attempting_ to achieve liberation?" 

Jöel chuckled at her questions as he played with the dagger in his hand. 

"All valid questions," he said with a grin. "But you're missing the bigger picture Mollie. You're focusing on the physical aspects of battle when in reality it's so much more to it than that. Being in battle is not only a game of arms. It's a game of the mind. _Deliverance_ is a direct reference to your mental liberation. Without the proper psyche, you'll crumble before you even reach for a weapon."

Mollie paused. She hadn't considered this.

"But how can you possibly know if someone is mentally prepared for battle?" 

Jöel shrugged. "It's different for everybody. It's something you figure out when you reach that stage." 

He hesitated after this. 

"Of course not everybody reaches that stage..." 

Mollie frowned. She could feel her anxiety blossoming up inside of her. Jöel continued.

"The fourth pillar is the E stone for _Endurance._ That one pretty much speaks for itself I'd say." 

Mollie weakly returned his smile. This dump of information was a lot for her to absorb. 

"The fifth and final pillar is the R stone for _Remembrance._ Your training means nothing if you are unable to remember all that you have learned from the first pillar to the last. It is also a testament to your ability to remember all that your coach has taught you. It is no less important than the other four. 

Mollie exhaled slowly as her stomach did somersaults within her. 

Jöel gave her an easy going smile. "You'll get there eventually Mollie, believe me. And before you know it you'll have completed your training and in your hands will be your _own_ dagger. 

“Why a dagger?” she questioned as Jöel unsheathed his own from its black casing.

“A dagger is probably the most simplistic weapon. You ask anyone to name a weapon and nine times out of ten someone will name a knife or a dagger of some sort. It’s that ubiquitous.”

Mollie watched as he balanced the fine shining weapon in his palm.

It was quite beautiful in its own way with its slick thin handle and sharp grooved edges along the side. Engraved along the side were symbols and words Mollie couldn’t quite discern and the blade had a deeper greyer colour than Mollie would have thought.

“This dagger was designed by me and created to fit my hands only. Only I know how to wield it in such a way.”

The dagger seemed to balance perfectly in Jöel’s palm and as Mollie went to reach for hit he gave her a playful shake of his head.

“Not so fast,” he said with a wry smile. “No one touches my dagger but me.”

Mollie remembered Micah’s quite clearly. The icy blue metal that seemed to glow cobalt in the night. It was freezing to the touch and adorned with jewels along the hilt. It was so... _him._ Had she known about the importance of such a weapon, she may have played her cards a little more wisely in the past.

“When you’ve completed your training, albeit successfully, you’ll get your own Mollie.”

Mollie flinched.

She doubted she’d ever reach that point. Not with her long legs, lack of coordination, and inability to properly hold the damn thing.

“ _DAMN_ it Zen,” Araya called out as he gave a particularly hard whip of the weapon at her unprotected torso. 

Zen simply laughed as she scowled at him returning to the opposite side of the training clearing.

“Gotta keep that arm down,” he reminded her playfully as she attempted to return the hit.

“They call that shot the gastro fiasco,” Jöel said with a laugh. “Super painful and incredibly effective. Your torso is one of the most vulnerable areas during battle due to the lack of bone coverage there. As well as an unprotected thigh.”

Mollie continued to watch Zen and Araya spar for a bit. Although it made her nervous, she much preferred this than sitting in the cramped kitchen above deck peeling potatoes with old Pauline. 

“Why an unprotected thigh?” Mollie questioned as Zen increased the pace of his thrusts.

“Because of the femoral artery,” Jöel explained. “It’s one of the largest arteries in the body due to the requirement of supplying blood to the muscles in the legs. It also has the highest blood pressure due to its proximity and spatial arrangement from the heart. It has the highest blood pressure because it is the largest artery below the heart and thus it is not necessary for blood pressure to fight against the force of gravity.” 

He spoke gravely and quickly and Mollie listened as Jöel continued to teach her the basics.

“It’s important to know these things before you even pick up a weapon, let alone practice with another person. That femoral artery in particular is troublesome. It lies quite close to the surface of the skin and makes us vulnerable in that position. One slice there and you can bleed to death in minutes.”

“But how do you account for that?” Mollie questioned. “How hyperaware do you have to be in order to cover your, chest, torso, and your thighs while at the same time trying to find those weaknesses in your opponent?”

Jöel grinned at her.

“That’s the beauty of sparring Mollie, you live and you learn.” He paused at her expression of shock and laughed.

“I’m joking," he said with chuckle. "You simulate. Simulation is powerful. You practice with the fake stuff before you use the really dangerous stuff. Like Zen. That’s just a safety sword, not an actual desertblade. Though even a skilled sparrer would second guess using that weapon in battle.” He hesitated as he continued, dropping his voice even lower. “But Zen likes living on the edge. Always has.”

Mollie made a move to stand, the muscles in her legs cramping. Her aches had only seemed to worsen with each passing day and she felt a strong pulse of nausea begin to hit her again. 

“You alright?” Jöel asked, the concern in his voice evident.

“Fine,” Mollie brushed off. “I think the tilting of the ship is kind of getting to me now,” she admitted. “I just need to get out of this suit and rest a bit.”

“Let me call Araya,” Jöel replied turning towards the siblings who were still sparring with each other.

“No!” Mollie said rather sharply. “It’s fine. I can do it myself.” She gave him a small smile as she turned to head to head towards one of the back rooms. 

“I’ll see you at dinner.”

***

Mollie had slept straight through dinner and only when she heard the sharp sound of shuffling above her did she wake from her slumber. She was surprised to see that it was pitch black around her. It must have been late, well past midnight, but the room was surprisingly empty. Her curtain was closed and the blankets wrapped snuggly around her body. 

Mollie groaned as she pushed herself to her feet and made a move towards the small sink and mirror around the corner. As she splashed cold water on her face she saw a familiar face staring at her from the mirror – right behind her shoulder. 

She gasped in shock and whirled around to see the old woman in white that had intercepted her way to her room early yesterday morning, standing in front of her.

The woman had not aged well and Mollie swallowed nervously as she stared at Mollie with those pale milky blue eyes. If Mollie hadn't seen her before, she would have thought she were a ghost.

Quite suddenly she reached forward and gripped Mollie’s wrists in her hands and Mollie yelped at the abrupt contact.

“You stupid girl,” she hissed. “Bad luck will befall this ship now that you’re on board.”

Mollie recoiled quickly, attempting to unsuccessfully yank her wrists from the old womans strong grip. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” she cried out twisting in the womans shockingly steely grasp.

“You carry the seed of the enemy in your womb, I felt it the minute you boarded this ship. You’ve doomed us all.”

Mollie began to scream as the woman began to claw at Mollie -- her nails sinking into her shoulders and dragging downwards to claw away at her abdomen. 

Mollie hadn’t even realized that she was wearing very little -- nothing except for a short top and her panties as the crazy woman scratched at the flesh of her stomach.

It didn’t take long for the other members of the ship to come scampering down to the bedroom quarters. 

Mollie was terrified as Caius and Zen acted quickly, immediately seizing the old woman as she hurled threats at Mollie. The woman thrashed and screamed as Caius and Zen dragged her as far away from Mollie as they could.

Araya clutched Mollie and quickly led her out of the room as the old woman continue to scream from above deck.

By the time Mollie made it to Caius’s office she was trembling. Not even the soft reassurances from Araya were enough to settle her spasming nerves.

“Mollie I’m so sorry,” Araya blubbered as she clutched Mollie’s quivering wrists. “She’s supposed to be passed out by this time of the night. I’m so sorry.”

Mollie didn’t even bother to ask who or what the woman was doing on their ship, she was too numb by what the woman had told her. 

“Why would she say that?” Mollie whispered brokenly between numb lips. “Why would she…”

Mollie trailed off as those womans words filtered through her head.

_You carry the seed of the enemy in your womb._

_No. God No._

Mollie was suddenly gasping for air as she fell to her knees, desperate sobs escaping from her throat. 

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Mollie recognized Caleb’s deep voice but Mollie couldn’t hear anything – she had blocked her mind out from everything around her.

But he had given it to her. Micah had injected her. He had told her it would prevent her from getting pregnant. 

Mollie sobbed as she remembered that moment.

 _“Oh Mollie, you foolish girl,”_ said that taunting voice in the back of her mind. _“That was months ago. How many more times had he fucked you after that?”_

Mollie had lost count. How had she lost track of time so horribly after being in the North. It was as if being there, in that isolated setting surrounded by ice and glacial mountains had warped Mollie’s reality -- transformed her perception of time and space and everything in between. 

The last time she had her period was sometime in Questershire. Days before she had been transported North. She knew…and…

She suddenly felt as if she were going to vomit again. 

Micah had known too. He easily could have tracked her cycle after knowing her first day of menstruation. 

The memories began to hit her full force after that. The nausea, the appetite fluctuations, the sleeping, the fatigue. 

_Oh my god._

She could see Micah’s smirk now as he glanced at her, all dolled up in her yellow gown as he showed her off to the rest of his guests. He had been so protective of her, so watchful. So smug.

_“You won’t like the champagne. It’s fermented differently here than it is in the South.”_

Mollie felt her fists clench.

She recalled another more recent memory of him, as she lay sprawled across from him on the massive bed within _Chalet de Lyon._

_“You can’t use me to further your own agenda Micah. I..I won’t allow it.”_

_He had smiled in her face._

_“Well it’s a little late for that isn’t it?”_

Mollie was on her hands and knees at this point, ignoring the strong arms of the person who had lifted her up into his arms. 

_“It must be so boring for you. Being one step ahead of everybody else in the room.”_

_He had looked at her, almost apprehensively then._

_“I suppose it can make day to day activities rather monotonous. It’s mostly just a matter of waiting for everybody else to catch-up.”_

_Mollie had frowned at him as he smirked at her._

_“How dreadfully infuriating,” she had told him._

_“You have no idea.”_

He knew. He fucking knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations in Order:
> 
> *Can you control your sons?
> 
> *Boys will be boys dear brother
> 
> *If you had a son, I can assure you, you would understand better
> 
> *We should be focusing our efforts on the current problem, yes?
> 
> *I'm hungry. I don't want to be here
> 
> *What's wrong? Are you hurt?
> 
> *I know what you did
> 
> *Talk to me Izabel, I'm begging you
> 
> *Why? Should I be worried?


	35. Brome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie copes with her newfound situation. A shocking truth about the winter prince is revealed.

“The good thing is,” Caius said softly. “Is that we are the only ones that know as of now.”

Mollie felt the blood drain from her face as the words left his mouth. She had draped her cloak over herself as she sat in front of the rest of the members aboard the small ship. 

“So we can use it against him?” Araya said swiftly. “Strike a deal maybe.”

They were gathered around the dining table, the candlelight illuminating the dark room below deck. It must have been well past two in the morning at this point. 

Mollie shook her head wordlessly as the others turned to look at her. 

“He knows.” She whispered.

The others had gone quiet and Mollie felt her heart sink. 

“How do you know?” Arayalynn asked. “Him playing word games with you doesn’t confirm anything Mollie. Maybe he suspected it but he can’t be sure. Not unless he did a proper examination.”

“He might have!” Mollie argued running a hand through her thick curls. She was a deep sleeper and Micah knew this. “For all I know he could have done one while I was asleep.”

Arayalynn looked dubiously at Caius who seemed unsure. 

He turned towards Mollie. 

“Did he ever mention it to you? Make it seem as if he knew?”

Mollie swallowed uneasily. 

“You don’t know Micah,” she said warily. “He’s not like that. He doesn’t _seem_ like anything. It’s impossible to tell what he knows and doesn’t know. It took six months before he even told me that the queen wasn’t his real mother!” 

Mollie didn’t mean to shout it but her voice echoed across the table regardless. 

There was a laugh from the opposite end of the table and Mollie frowned when she turned her head to the source. 

Zen had a cruel smile on his face as he looked at her. 

“Wow I’m surprised,” he said dully, heavy sarcasm in his tone. “I thought you would have fucked some more information out of him. You must be bad at your job.”

Mollie felt her face flame and she felt her fists curl under the table.

“Shut the fuck up Zephyr.”

Arayalynn’s voice pierced the air shrilly and Caius frowned at his son. 

“If you have nothing positive to introduce to the discussion, then refrain from participation.”

His tone was biting and Zen sighed in exasperation. 

“At this point, assuming the prince is ignorant is too risky.” Caius brushed a hand over his face as he weighed his options. “I know my brother. He raised those boys with the purpose of making them stone cold killers and each of them serve a purpose that benefits himself the most.”

“Micah’s different.”

The silence that radiated around the table shook Mollie more than any insult that had been hurled at her and she suddenly wished she had kept her mouth shut. 

Caius had turned his placid gaze on her but there was a flicker of interest there.

“What makes you say that?” His tone was not unkind, just straightforward and curious and Mollie bit her lip.

She didn’t know what to say to these people. She knew Micah on a level no else did...on a level no one else would. How could she possibly make them see things from her perspective? 

Caius spoke again and Mollie felt it was his way of making her open up more as he gave her his undivided attention. 

“I remember Rowan and James when they were young... before Micah was born.”

Mollie looked at him sharply as he spoke directly to her as if it was just the two of them seated at this table. 

Arayalynn frowned, a memory from her past resurfacing as well.

“I cannot speak for Micah as I’ve never met my youngest nephew, but I can for the other two and let me say, it is not favourable Mollie. I find it hard to believe there would be one good egg amongst a batch of rotten ones reared by the same owner.” 

She sighed suddenly feeling drained. 

She wanted to fucking kill Micah. She was positive that he knew about her pregnancy and that he went out of his way to keep her in the dark about it. She had been too preoccupied on figuring him out that she had neglected her own problems in the process -- and he had seen this long before she had. 

She could kick herself. 

“All I can say,” Mollie said softly meeting Caius’ eyes, “is that he didn’t plan this from the start. He...used me along the way.”

She felt her throat go thick and she suddenly felt ill. 

“I think I need some fresh air,” she barely managed to say as she scrambled out of the room. 

She could hear the hush fall over the table behind her as she scrambled up to the top deck. 

She cut off here, the reality of what she knew suddenly hitting her full force. Maybe it was all lies, all the sweet things he had told her about while she lay beside him in bed, or when he rubbed her cheek affectionately or insisted he run his fingers through her curls. Maybe he did it all because he had to make her submissive, make her believe that he had some morsel of kindness so she obeyed him and wasn’t a problem. He had to make her believe he somewhat cared for her during her pregnancy to keep her beside him. To keep her subdued.

Her mind was urging her to reason with the events that had occurred. But her heart. Her heart was aching-- contemplating a situation where Micah was not the cold hearted monster everyone made him out to be. 

She was so confused. So utterly exhausted.

She gripped the railings, feeling the cool air ruffle through her hair as her curls swiped her cheeks. 

Mollie felt the tears well up as she pressed her palm against the small but definitely noticeable bulge of her belly. Mollie wondered how she possibly could have missed it. Now that she was aware of it, she couldn’t comprehend how she had overlooked it.

She heard shuffling behind her and she swallowed the sobs in her throat as the shadow loomed closer behind her.

“Just leave me alone,” she snapped bringing her palms towards her cheeks.

“It’s me.”

The tone made Mollie straighten up and she glanced over to see Zephyr Lyon standing beside her, his hands in his thick black coat as his dark blue eyes scanned over Mollie.

“Just who I was looking for,” she said bitingly turning away from him.

“Hey...look I’m sorry.” 

He hesitated as Mollie turned her back to him. They had gotten off to a terrible start and Mollie didn’t think the future looked too promising either.

“Save it. I don’t need an apology that’s coming from your Dad to go through you.”

She heard his breath inhale sharply.

“It isn’t,” he retorted. 

Mollie ignored him. There wasn’t that much to see this late but Mollie could definitely feel that the air was becoming less chilly.

“What are you sorry for then?” Mollie challenged. She kept her eyes glued ahead.

She could hear Zephyr mutter under his breath from behind her.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you at dinner,” he muttered. She could hear the simmering irritation beneath his tone. 

“Is that all?”

She knew this ticked him over the edge and he all but sneered at her as he came closer so his shoulder brushed hers.

“I’m not apologizing for anything else because I’m _not_ sorry. Anyone who allies with the King and his sons is an enemy to me.”

Mollie stiffened.

“I wouldn’t have been in that position if _your_ people hadn't put me there in the first place.”

Zen rolled his eyes.

“Look I already know how that went down-,”

“Like hell you do,” Mollie hissed turning toward him. “You don’t know shit. I’m tired of people telling me what I do and don’t know.”

She took a step toward Zen and tilted her head up to reach his incredibly tall height so that her nose was inches apart from his. 

“And whatever you think of me, I don’t care. I can see your hatred towards Micah Lyon is blinding you to the real enemy here. He’s _not_ the problem. He’s as much a prisoner in this war as you and I. The enemy here is Hartley. Hartley Lyon is the fucking mastermind behind this whole disaster. He wants a war and he’s going to get it the minute Micah steps foot on Ophian territory. It's time to start focusing on killing the real enemy here. Maybe then you can put those ridiculous threats to use.”

With that Mollie left him behind her as she stomped her way back below deck.

To hell with him she thought as she slammed the door behind her. As Mollie approached the large room that had been turned into their sleep quarters she caught sight of the crazy old woman that had almost mauled her the other night. Mollie kept her distance and thankfully the woman kept hers -- but Mollie couldn't help but shoot her a look of utter disgust. The woman was singing a soft lullaby to herself as she brushed her fingers against the vessel walls. 

_Rock-a-bye baby_

_On the treetop_

_When the wind blows_

_The cradle will rock_

_When the bough breaks_

_The cradle will fall_

_And down will come baby_

_Cradle and all_

***

Two weeks had gone by already and Mollie still felt grossly behind everyone else.

She had been livid after finding out everyone on the ship had been well aware of her condition before she had been. It seemed the whole world had known of it except for her. She couldn’t _stand_ it.

However now that she was aware that she was carrying a new life inside of her she felt different --more careful and protective.

She had created something beautiful in the midst of a time of unimaginable hardship and despair. 

Caius sighed as he walked around the training ground, his thumb at his chin as he observed the papers in front of him. He was working closely with Jöel on a novel prototype. Some sort of machinery Mollie wasn’t quite familiar with. 

She couldn’t stop brushing a hand against her stomach now that she knew of her condition. She was absent-mindedly pressing at her little bump as Araya plopped herself down beside her.

Mollie had learned that the woman who had very nearly assaulted her two weeks earlier and who seemed to enjoy wandering around the lower levels of the ship was Arayalynn’s mother and oddly enough the mother of Zephyr and Isaac as well. She was even more shocked to find out that the woman was none other than Isla Lyon-- former queen of the Lyon empire and wife of the deceased Atem Lyon.

It was clear that the woman had obviously lost her mind at some point in time and Mollie felt something painfully familiar with knowing that. She grew up in that kind of environment for most of her life. She realized now why Zephyr and Araya distanced themselves the way they did. It wasn’t because they didn’t care about her, it was just…easier to cope that way. She knew that. 

"For how much longer are you going to give me the silent treatment?" 

Mollie frowned and turned away. She hadn't spoken to the girl in the two weeks since she had been informed of her condition. 

"Come on Mollie," she said with exasperation. "You were spiralling into a depressive episode when we brought you on board. We couldn't tell you right away --it wasn't safe! I wanted to...but Caius was against it. Not until you were mentally strong enough to grasp the situation and make a rational decision." 

Mollie was getting rather put out with not having a female friend to talk to anymore. But she had been so upset with Araya for not telling her. Of all the people on the boat, she had expected the most out of her. 

"Do you forgive me?" 

Mollie sighed brushing her hair back. Araya was staring at her with those wide brown eyes, it was almost comical how hurt she appeared. 

Had Mollie not been so put out, she would have easily made the girl beg a little bit more for her forgiveness. But she was just so exhausted she didn't see the point. 

"I'll consider it," Mollie said flatly. The smile that appeared on Araya's face was as if Mollie had just told her she won the lottery. "But only because there is a disproportionate amount of females to male on this ship. And we should stick together." 

Mollie ignored her as she draped her arms around Mollie and squeezed lightly. 

“Caius!”

Mollie and Araya turned around in time to see Caden sprint down the narrow steps and run up to Caius his hands clasped around some sort of object.

Caius turned swiftly and Mollie watched as he removed a thick scroll attached to the thin skinny legs of what appeared to be a... bird?

“Homing pigeon,” Araya whispered to her as Caius removed the scroll and opened the letter that had been rolled and attached to the bird. “We use it to send messages during long distance voyages.”

Caius seemed frustrated after reading the message and crossed his arms. He began to pace up and down the training clearing, agitation clear on his features.

He turned to Caleb abruptly and whispered something to him. With a sharp nod Caleb proceeded to leave somewhere above deck, his pace swift.

Caius suddenly turned to Mollie and she swallowed nervously.

“Mollie,” he said addressing her directly. “Did any of the Lyons ever talk business with you? Did they ever discuss any trade with Ophians?”

Mollie bit her lip.

She had told them everything she knew so far, but she had remained tight-lipped about much of her interaction with the prince. Those were her memories for now. No matter how hard they grilled her she couldn’t open about that part of her life just yet.

In fact she did know about the interaction the Lyons had planned with the Ophians. She knew that Micah would be the one negotiating with them directly. She also knew he would be making the trip directly from _Icedalar_ to the Obsidian Desert.

She felt her cheeks burn as Araya stared her down with that apprehensive look on her face. She ignored her facing Caius. 

“I’ve already told you what I know about that,” Mollie said somewhat flatly. “The Lyons plan on docking there sometime super soon. Hartley wanted Micah in charge of the operation.”

Caius pursed his lips.

“I just got a message telling me that Rowan would be the one negotiating that deal.” 

His arms were crossed and he seemed doubtful. 

Mollie felt rather than saw all the others turn to look at her out of the corner of her eye. Her face heated up even more.

“What you think I’m lying?” she pressed. 

“No,” Caius said pleasantly. “I believe you. I just wonder how outdated your information is. You said this meeting took place in Questershire? That was months ago. Perhaps the arrangement has been modified somewhat?”

Mollie shook her head.

“Hartley was dead set on Micah doing it. He is CEO. As a political leader, the Ophians being a constitutional monarchy have no ground to harm him. Not immediately anyways.”

Mollie hesitated. 

Caius didn’t answer but she could see his thoughts were in motion again.

She could see Zen frowning at her from across the room but she studiously ignored him. She wasn’t falling for his intimidation tactics today.

“As you know, the Ophians have been a good friend to us when we needed it. They are in full support of taking down the Lyon monarchy and they will help us in any way they can. Our only problem is _Devonis_ and... the winter prince.”

Caius turned to address the others in the room and Mollie could tell he was ready to lapse into another speech. 

“So far, we have an idea of how James and Rowan operate,” he paused his pacing to turn to look at each and every one of them. “But we draw a blank when it comes to Micah Lyon. However I have heard he is more like his father than the other two.”

His eyes glossed over Mollie and she looked down.

“But we have Mollie with us now. And that gives us an advantage over him.”

“And we don’t just have Mollie,” Caden added with a sly grin. “We have his heir too.”

Mollie didn’t know why she felt so insulted by his comment but she bit her lip and kept her eyes glued to the floor.

She could hear the disgust coming from Zen after the comment. 

“So what?” he interjected turning to his father. “We threaten him with Mollie and the foetus? I doubt he cares enough for that.”

“Of course he cares,” Arayalynn hissed back. “It's Micah Lyon. He wouldn’t have risked getting her pregnant if he didn’t want it to happen!”

"She'd be better off getting rid of it," Zen said hotly. "And as soon as possible too." 

Caius frowned and Mollie felt a headache begin to start as Araya leaped out of her chair to challenge her brother. 

"What the hell Zephyr," she screeched. "That is out of line." 

Zen protested and before long Mollie could hear the beginning of a heated argument on the brink of escalation. 

They spoke about her as if she weren’t in the room and she distanced herself from the surrounding shouts around her.

She suddenly caught Caius’ eye and she noticed the way he was looking at her. As if he were sending her a silent message. 

“Mollie can lure him in,” Zen explained. “Get the prince close enough to her then we can take him _out.”_

“Why are you so keen on taking him out?”

Mollie raised her voice when she addressed Zen directly, in front of his father and all of the members around him.

She could see Zen grit his teeth as he slowly turned his unimpressed gaze towards her.

“Perhaps the real question is…why are _you_ so keen on protecting him. Not once this entire trip have you said a single fault against the Winter Prince.”

He suddenly stood up to his full height and Mollie braced herself as she felt the others around the room begin to circle around him. 

“Maybe it’s because you're fucking loyal to him now. That’s why.”

“That’s enough.”

Zen was biting his lip so hard Mollie thought he would draw blood right then and there.

“Tell her,” Zen said suddenly turning towards his father. “Tell her what you confirmed.”

Caius huffed and Mollie sensed his discomfort.

“Tell me what,” Mollie said through gritted teeth.

“Tell her the reason we need to take out Micah Lyon. There’s no point in hiding it anymore.”

Caius frowned, his brows knitting together as Zen’s face began to flush bright red.

_“TELL HER.”_

Mollie was immobilized to her chair at this point. She watched as the dynamic between Caius and Zen gradually descended into chaos.

“Get him out of here.”

Caius didn’t need to repeat himself and Mollie watched as Araya and Caden flanked Caius' eldest son. Zen brushed them off immediately and stomped his way above deck. Araya shot her a pleading glance before she scampered above deck- probably to further condemn her brother. Joël was next to leave, quietly heading above deck to give Mollie and Caius some privacy.

The silence that ensued made an awful prickly feeling erupt along Mollie’s spine.

Caius remained calm and poised walking slowly around the table till he stood in front of Mollie. She trembled as he lowered himself down to one knee so he was eye level with her.

“Micah gave you that necklace didn’t he?”

Mollie nodded stiffly as Caius’s eyes flickered down to her neck for a second.

His fingers brushed her collarbone as he lifted the delicate silver from her neck. His fingers were warm and Mollie watched as he stared down at the precious metal. 

“Look, Mollie. Being in such close proximity to someone can create emotions, strong emotions that make you feel as if you have nobody else but that person to depend on. I know.”

Mollie furrowed her brows, staring Caius dead on.

“What...what are you suggesting?" she whispered. "If you think I love-"

Caius sighed.

“I’m not suggesting that. All I’m saying is… the way you feel about Micah Lyon is not abnormal. He was all you ever had during those moments alone. It is inevitable that you would develop feelings towards him. Almost unavoidable in this case.”

Mollie felt her eyes begin tear up as Caius looked knowingly at her.

She hated how easily he was able to make her reveal how she really felt. She didn't know whether it was just his aura, or the way he looked at her in a way that made her feel as if he understood. Perhaps it was because he had been through so much -- not so different from herself. 

“I...didn’t want to,” she admitted as the tears fell down her cheeks. “But I know he’s not all bad.” She began to sob as Caius nodded at her. “I know he isn’t. I…I believe he isn’t. I have to believe that he _can_ be saved.”

Caius seemed wary as he waited patiently for Mollie to gather herself. 

“I’m so sorry Mollie,” he whispered brining a warm hand to her cheek.

She cried harder as he comforted her in the chilly basement of the swaying vessel. 

“You’re carrying his child. Things are different now and no one-- no one will understand your predicament Mollie. Not unless they’ve gone through it themselves.”

“What do you have to tell me Caius?” she whispered wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Just tell me.”

Caius took a deep breath.

“Look. There’s a reason Hartley favoured that boy over his other two sons,” Caius said softly his blue eyes glistening. “Within the Lyon monarchy, there has always been a subtle push to keep the blood line as pure as possible. Our father used to tell us that all the time.”

Caius paused for a moment, a lock of his light hair falling over his brow. 

Mollie felt her heart climb to her throat as she began to piece things together.

"I had my suspicions about Micah's birth mother. I _always_ have. But I could only speculate, there was never enough truth to the matter to validate my conclusions." Caius’ eyes had zeroed in on the necklace around Mollie’s neck. “Not until now.”

A dark sinister expression crossed Caius's face and Mollie tensed at the sudden shift in the atmosphere. 

Mollie's voice trembled as she spoke. 

“Micah’s mother wasn’t a commoner was she? She wasn’t even a mistress.”

Caius shook his head slowly.

His voice had gone grim and so quiet she had to strain closer to listen. 

"The evidence had always been there. From the angry cries of an affair from Porphyria --the animosity from Isla -- the hate spewing from the lips of Atem."

Caius trailed off and turned his deep blue eyes onto hers. 

“Micah’s mother was no common woman, nor was she a mistress. Micah’s mother was Izabel Lyon, Mollie. Hartley Lyon conceived the boy with his own sister.”

***

Mollie felt sick to her stomach just hearing it and she stumbled to a corner for a moment feeling her dinner rise up in her throat.

She dry heaved as Caius stood behind her, placing a gentle hand on her back.

“Jesus,” she whispered.

“Atem had suspected it the day Izabel was murdered. It would explain his behaviour that day, why he was so set upon killing Hartley -- he was inconsolable - completely deranged for someone who was usually so lucid.”

“That’s her,” Mollie whispered -- the portrait of the beautiful blond girl in his chambers crossing her mind. “That woman wasn’t a mistress at all...it was Izabel.”

She had been thrown off by the colourless sculpture of Izabel Lyon in the garden. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that they could have been the same person. 

“How…how did Atem find out?”

Mollie knew the Lyons were a fucked up family, but never in a million years would she have thought they would stoop to the level of incest.

Caius frowned.

“The same way we all did...Porphyria,” he said softly. “She had suspected Hartley had been having an affair. At the time we didn't know who with and we didn't care. She had been going off about it for some time. Now this isn’t particularly uncommon for royalty. Many take concubines to satisfy their needs. But an affair is something else altogether. Hartley didn’t love Porphyria the way he loved this...other woman.”

He sighed, his fingers pressing into his temples.

“Of course we didn't find Porphyria's complaints to be of that much significance at the time. What Hartley didn’t know when he left to the Ophian Empire with Izabel was that Porphyria was also pregnant.”

He curled his lip as the memory resurfaced in his mind.

“She was a particularly spiteful woman and quite frankly my Isla couldn’t stand her. Porphyria had threatened to expose Hartley and Izabel first chance she got after finding out about their relationship. As to _how_ she found this out...I do not know. She had confronted Atem about it some days before father died, and of course Atem informed me and we both found it rather incredulous. She had no proof.”

He swiped a hand against his forehead as he looked at Mollie who had slowly made her way back to the chair. 

“Of course, we didn’t believe her…not until we saw both children. The son with blond hair and the daughter with dark hair.”

Caius trailed off for a moment and Mollie saw him grimace slightly before he continued speaking.

_Micah had been fair haired at one point. Like his mother._

“Unfortunately for Porphyria, she should have known better than to make threats against Hartley. Especially when it involved the well being of Izabel. Izabel had the child soon enough -- in Courchevel I suspect -- on her way back to Questershire and Hartley came up with a plan. It would explain why she hadn't returned with Hartley for the morning assembly the day our father passed. But Hartley--being the quick witted snake he is-- knew Porphyria was also pregnant when he had returned and that her due date matched quite well with Izabel’s. Rather than leave the child in the North and risk having to conclude his child was a bastard to the people --he was set on bringing his pure blood child back with him to Questershire and set on raising it as a royal. And why wouldn't he? The child was a pure Lyon after all and should not have been treated as anything otherwise. To preserve his dignity and the life of his son he staged the birth to make it seem as if Porphyria had given birth to twins.”

Mollie felt her stomach twist again and she placed a hand against her belly. 

“What Porphyria didn't know...was that Isla had overheard a particular nasty outburst between Porphyria and Hartley. She relayed this information back to Atem and...well Izabel's absence that morning certainly matched up with what Isla had said. This proved to be quite fatal for Porphyria.”

“That’s what Esperanza had known,” Mollie muttered. “She told me Porphyria had twins.”

Caius looked at her.

“The maid?”

He seemed less than fond of her and Mollie wasn’t the least bit surprised.

“That woman spent more time snooping than she did doing her job. I’m surprised she’s still alive.”

Mollie shifted uncomfortably. 

“She told me…that Porphyria had two babies. Twins.”

Caius frowned, his blond brows furrowing. 

“That’s what the maids were coerced into believing. Hartley planned this incredibly well Mollie. He thought about every possibility and every loophole well in advance.”

“And what about the babies?” Mollie asked tentatively. “Were they…healthy? 

Caius cocked his head to the side…as if trying to remember.

“I suppose,” he said rather languidly. “Though the boy had trouble breathing. Was on ventilation for a bit. The other was healthy. I remember.”

Mollie felt sick hearing this. Maybe that's why Hartley had Atem killed and a bounty put on Caius' and Isla's head. Since they knew too much-- _suspected_ too much. They were the only ones who knew the truth...

Mollie felt her insides clench.

“And Porphyria?” she questioned.

Caius frowned.

“Childbirth complications," Caius said flatly.

Mollie grimaced. She knew it would have been fairly easy for Hartley to get rid of her while she was going into labour. 

"What happened to the girl?" Mollie wondered out loud. "Hartley wouldn’t kill his own child right?” Mollie asked tentatively. “Would he?”

Caius pursed his lips.

“I know my brother. He values Lyon blood too much to do something like that, especially to his own child. No. He didn’t kill the poor thing. I’m sure of it.”

Mollie sighed. It was yet another unanswered question in the Lyon family history --the fate of Porphyria's only daughter. 

Caius continued musing on but Mollie just felt numb.

"Izabel had been so...different that day -- so out of character. I should never have let her go...” he muttered. "I'll regret it for the rest of my life." He had taken a couple deep breaths after this and Mollie wondered how someone like Caius -- with such a bloody history and corrupt family could still manage to continue living week after week, trying to do the right thing despite wallowing in a never ending spiral of pain and guilt. It couldn't be easy. 

"But that necklace she had been wearing," Caius said softly his blue eyes glinting in the soft light, "it was a gift...a gift Izabel had made for her son. It is no coincidence that it bears the letter _M_ and that it had come to fall into Micah's possession. For years I had wondered -- grappled with this repugnant possibility. I didn't want to believe it. But this necklace...this confirms it all."

She remembered vividly in that moment how Micah had opened up to her about his fears, his beliefs.

He was convinced something was wrong with him from the start – and his hunch was not unwarranted. He didn’t want to believe he was a full Lyon. He was set on a reality -- his own reality that involved his father and a common woman conceiving him. His humanity predicated on this reality, the one where the non-Lyon side of him was capable of existing -- maybe even overcoming the other part of him – his fathers part. 

Mollie suddenly knew in that moment why Hartley had kept this secret all these years. Apart from the ethical aspect of it, Hartley knew Micah well. He was aware of Micah’s weaknesses and his strengths and how to manipulate the boy into doing exactly what he wanted. He encouraged this reality, to keep Micah chained like a dog to the fence -- fed him false nothings about a woman Micah knew nothing about. Allowed him to believe that his mother was out there somewhere, alive and possibly free. 

She felt a gut wrenching emotion consume her just thinking about Hartley. She knew why Hartley would – _could_ never tell Micah this truth. It would most certainly destroy him to the point of no return.

Hartley favoured that boy because he was the only son with pure Lyon blood in his veins. That’s why he wanted Micah as King and that’s why he put that boy on a pedestal, above his older brothers. It all made sense now.

Mollie looked at Caius with a panic.

“Hartley never intended to give up the throne to either Rowan or James did he?”

Caius looked away.

“I don’t believe so. Hartley was always obsessed with keeping the blood line pure.”

Mollie felt a sadness grip her heart.

“He would have never let Micah free...no matter what he did.”

This realization dawned upon Mollie and she felt a cold biting numbness clench around her heavy heart.

Caius sighed.

“Hartley’s most powerful weapon is Micah Lyon. We take him out, Hartley buckles Mollie. And that is our goal at the end of the day.”

Mollie felt numb. Her throat felt thick and heavy and her skin far too heated to be normal. 

“There must be another way. Caius please. This isn’t Micah’s fault-”

Memories of Micah kneeling on the cold floor of the prison beneath the winter fortress swept through Mollie's mind and she couldn't attribute whether these feelings were a result of her unfounded connection to the prince or her hormones. Irregardless, she felt a deep gut wrenching pain for him that she could no longer ignore. 

Caius closed his eyes as Mollie’s protests fell on deaf ears.

“Micah’s circumstances are deeply unfortunate,” Caius said softly straightening up. “But I can’t spare him Mollie. Not after knowing what he is. He isn’t like us. No child of his nascency is.”

“Stop,” she cried out. “Just _stop.”_

She had lurched to her feet as her sobs began to erupt from her chest.

She could see from the look on Caius’s face that he wouldn’t budge on his stance. He had arranged his mission and he planned on carrying it out to the fullest, with or without Mollie’s help. 

With a tender hand on her stomach Mollie fled the room-- the necklace around her neck suddenly ten pounds heavier than the life she carried in her belly. For the first time in her life, Mollie could definitively say that she agreed with Micah. She wished she hadn’t been so set on finding out the truth. In some situations ignorance could be the most blissful outcome of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Micah. Everyone is out to get him. 
> 
> Side note: Phew. This chapter was so. freaking. exhausting and incredibly difficult. Emotionally and physically. Remind me next time to ditch the mystery because this is hard work lol.
> 
> Family Tree:  
> https://thelyonchronicles.tumblr.com/post/630882995345276928/updated-lyon-family-tree


	36. Krypton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie's formal training begins. Mollie comes to terms with her pregnancy and what it may entail for her future.

_Mollie was drowning._

_The water was all around her-- threatening to pull her down into a place deeper than the trenches that lined the bottom of the open sea. There was someone there – someone above her. She could see it through the blurry interface of the water. She swam closer, and closer – kicking her legs as far out as she could – desperately keeping the last remnants of oxygen in her already deflating lungs. The person was getting clearer and clearer the closer to the surface she swam. She knew that face…those familiar dark curls contrasted against that pale skin. The hand grasped hers tightly, the coldness emanating from the skin sending shockwaves through her body. She broke the surface in a frantic rush knowing she would meet familiar green eyes staring back at her. But as she blinked away the blurriness from her hazy vision she saw not him – but a child – so strikingly familiar but also so startlingly different. Instead there stood a little boy clutching her arm, dark chestnut curls plastered against his forehead, his pink lips curved in a smile, deep dimples set in a beautiful charming face. But those eyes…those eyes were hers staring back at her. Before she could react he had loosened his hand from her grip letting her drop backwards as Mollie screamed, the water threatening to usurp her in its impenetrable grasp once again._

Mollie woke up drenched in sweat and gasping for air. Her hair stuck fast to her neck and she coughed, the water from her dream feeling so terrifyingly real. The heat hit her next and she hurriedly threw the heavy quilt from her body as she sopped the sweat from her brow.

It was always that same recurring dream she had been having for the last week. That little boy who would be her ultimate demise. The boy with a beautiful face and eyes like hers. The way he smiled as she drowned…

Her cheeks felt stiff and dry from the tears she had shed from the dream and she groaned at the pain in her neck from the poor mattress she was sleeping on. 

_It was just a dream._

It was absolutely sweltering below deck and Mollie felt as if a cloth had been placed over her face and pressed forcefully against her nose and mouth. The heat was a smothering fog in the atmosphere, weighing down on her like an impenetrable net. 

Quietly, she shuffled past her curtain towards the top deck in search of cool less stifling air. 

Mollie cringed as she ascended the narrow staircase and stepped onto the top platform. A humid stifling heat took over as she draped her cloak around her arm. Mollie could already feel the sweat trickling down her back and she sighed as she walked towards the bow of the vessel. 

Arayalynn had not been wrong. The heat hit hard and fast.

There was a soft lulling whoosh as water splashed against the vessel. 

Mollie ran her fingers through her shorter hair and was happy Araya had decided to cut it. Her long thick hair would have been too difficult to manage in a climate as overbearing as the one she was in now.

“You’re up early.”

That deep growling voice was all too familiar to Mollie and she paused when she heard it.

She turned to see Caleb making his way towards the very front of the ship. He had on a plain black tunic with black pants and Mollie followed his movements carefully as he tucked his large hands into his pocket. 

“How are you feeling?” he grunted through his thick black beard.

Mollie tightened her lip but she saw no way around evading him. Not when they were the only two people on the top deck. 

“I’m fine,” she said stiffly crossing her arms. “What about you?”

He half smiled at Mollie’s question.

“Spectacular.”

Mollie went silent after this, the two of them just standing there as they watched the sun perch above the distant mountains. 

“I can see land,” Mollie said softly, her eyes fixed on the mountains in the distance. “I reckon we’ll be there soon.”

Caleb nodded.

“We’ll have more resources by the time we meet with the Ophians. Our training will increase and we’ll be able to get you to a proper doctor.”

Mollie swallowed uneasily.

“They’re incredibly advanced,” he murmured resting his elbows against the metal railing. “All these machines, devices I’ve never seen. You’ll be in good hands.”

She watched as Caleb mopped a hand against his brow.

“Though I fucking _hate_ the sand.”

***

Everything was a blur to Mollie.

It felt odd to reach land after being on water for so long.

Mollie’s balance felt off and she struggled to maintain her sense of direction especially in her new outfit that stuck to her like gum on a sidewalk. 

She had pulled her hair back into high ponytail and followed the others who all wore similar attire out onto the makeshift boardwalk.

Jöel was beside her, offering an arm as Caius and Zephyr led the way.

There were two people waiting for them at the end of the boardwalk and Mollie saw that they were dressed head to toe in white. 

They were both elegant in the way they presented themselves and as Mollie ventured closer she could tell that one was male and the other female.

They bowed as Caius and Zephyr greeted them and began to speak quietly. 

Mollie could feel the sweat already dripping down her back but she ignored the feverish heat and followed the others.

They seemed to know each other well and Mollie watched in silence as the two members greeted each person warmly before they touched foot on the sandy terrain.

Mollie was the only one left to exit the plank and she felt her cheeks heat up as she approached the two Ophians hesitantly. 

“Welcome to _Anubis,”_ said the male in a foreign accent Mollie hadn’t heard before. His skin was a rich brown and the womans beside him a beautiful deep olive. They both had vibrant violet eyes the colour of rich amethyst and Mollie was stunned. She had never known such a colour existed.

The woman didn’t speak but watched Mollie closely, her vivid eyes following her all the way till she joined the others. 

Mollie hurried up her pace until she was side by side with Araya who seemed oddly on edge.

“What’s going on?” she whispered as they continued down a steep pathway towards a large domed shaped building. It was a splash of white among the brown russet ambiance.

“We’re discussing our terms,” Araya whispered back. “We can’t just come and go as we please, as much as they are our allies.”

Mollie was surprised as they filed in to a thankfully cooler and less exposed environment within the grand piece of architecture.

“Caius,” the woman said warmly bringing him into a snug embrace. 

Zephyr’s arms were crossed in the corner of the massive hall – his tight black tunic straining against his muscles as he spoke with the man who had invited them onto their land. Mollie’s own shirt was pulled taut against her belly and she kept tugging it down – praying no one noticed the protrusion as much as she did.

Isla had remained outside of the hall. She seemed fixated on the sand beneath her feet and Mollie turned her gaze away abruptly. She didn’t like the old woman – not one bit.

“That’s Luna,” Araya whispered quietly gesturing to the woman who was speaking with Caius. “That there is her husband Kaveh.”

Mollie didn’t like the way the woman – Luna – how her eyes kept flickering over to her – as if the woman knew something about Mollie.

“This is their empire?” Mollie questioned.

“Kind of.” Araya responded. “The monarchy here has no official influence on political and international affairs. It all must go through _government,”_ Araya muttered. “They call it democracy. Where the people choose who they want to lead them.”

“That doesn’t seem like a terrible idea,” Mollie murmured with a shrug.

Luna had come towards them her bright eyes glowing against her tanned skin. 

“May I show you to your complex?”

Mollie exchanged another glance with Araya before they followed the woman outside the cool hall and back into the stifling heat.

The architecture here was truly something. Mollie had never seen so many domes and pillars in her life. It had its own style to it – almost rustic and traditional but intricately designed. Mollie never imagined that such a place could exist in the middle of a desert landscape.

A small wooden boat lay floating on the edge of a shallow pool that forked to join a long wide stream that flowed downwards. 

“The main city is across the river,” Luna explained quietly. “That’s where we are headed.”

Mollie noticed a pathway further down that led towards a dense green underbrush not too far from the rivers edge.

“What about that path?” Mollie questioned pointing towards the cluster of trees that lay a good few metres past them.

Luna shook her head quickly.

 _“No,”_ she said sharply. “It is much too dangerous through the forest. _Aconitum napellus._ We go by boat _only.”_

Mollie flinched at her tone and quickly followed the others into the boat. She’d have to remember not to bring up the topic again.

***

The first few days in Ophian territory were an adjustment for Mollie.

Mollie noticed immediately that the temperature cooled down significantly in the evening and when that time set in she invited the chilliness. She would take advantage of these moments when they came. The heat drove her absolutely delirious.

The buildings here were whitewashed – another tactic to drastically cool the interiors. Their customs were different and Mollie noted how different it was from living within the Lyon regime. There was a kind of freedom here that Mollie cherished. Although the climate was harsh and the sand like a whip against her tender skin -- there was a unity here among the people. A happiness that was lacking in her hometown of Chartery. Their group had their own quarters somewhat isolated from the rest of the locals. Mollie could feel the tension radiating off of the local people who watched them descend from the boat and make their way towards the main road. She knew that look. The grim stares followed them all the way to their building but the other Insurgency members appeared unaffected. Perhaps they were used to it.

Mollie watched the bustling locals in silence and imagined that this must have been what Riverton and all the countryside villages were like before the Lyons invaded their land. They were not so different after all. The only difference was that the Ophians had the resources, technology and the population to fight back. They weren’t weak and outnumbered like Mollie’s people had been. They could stand their ground. 

In contrast to the black tunic and black pants Mollie had sported on the vessel for all those weeks – the Ophians preferred white. It reflected the heat of the sun and it was the colour of purity as they called it.

Mollie wondered how Luna and Kaveh always kept their tunics white and pristine despite trekking through the same sand that she and the others did each day. That was a skill she had yet to accomplish.

She had spent the first couple of days settling in but she knew it was just a matter of time before she would have to throw herself back into training. She wanted to be ready when the time came to face the Lyons once again. It was this- this goal in the back of her mind that urged Mollie to swallow the pain in her abdomen and ignore the aches of her knees and back. She let the possibility of retaliation fuel her and only when she saw Hartley’s head on a pike would her anger be dissipated.

Mollie had her own spacious room (thankfully) and as she stepped out into the common area she spotted Araya in her white training uniform on her way to the clearing. The clearing was next to the massive waterfall where the Ophians had created a rather brilliant water reserve system that recycled rainwater and all other forms of waste. It was rather ingenious.

“Wait,” Mollie called out before the girl could disappear down the steps. 

Araya grinned when she spotted Mollie. The buildings within Ophian territory were all circular and equipped with circular balconies that piled on top of each other level upon level. It was astonishingly symmetrical and Mollie suddenly knew why Ophian craftsmanship appeared to be such a luxury. The architecture in these lands was truly unsurmounted. No fancy castle could compare. Hastily she darted down the spiralling staircase to meet up with the older girl.

“Did you visit the doctor yet?” Araya asked tentatively as Mollie sprinted up to her.

Mollie sighed. 

“Tomorrow,” she muttered.

Araya frowned at her.

“You shouldn’t put it off Mollie. The sooner the better.”

Mollie waved her off not wanting to talk about it. She was still coming to terms with the entire ordeal. She needed a distraction – something – _anything_ —to get her mind off the little being that was growing in her stomach.

“That goes for my training as well,” she murmured grabbing the sparring sword from Araya’s shoulder and swinging it around her own.

Before Araya could respond Mollie was already making a bee-line for the clearing ignoring the way the ends of her white pants submerged in the sandy terrain. 

“Mollie!” Joël said excitedly when he spotted her. “Good to see you down here.”

“Hey,” Mollie said with a smile. 

“Mollie wait,” Araya huffed. “There’s something I forgot to tell you.”

“Is she ready?” 

That bored lazy drawl sent Mollie’s blood boiling and she turned to spot Zephyr Lyon leaning casually against the armoury behind Joël, as he bit into an apple. 

He was still wearing black in spite of the heat – the tunic sticking to his body like a second skin. He was incredibly fit – Mollie could tell and his muscles bulged from beneath his black shirt. It added to his already intimidating aura. His honey blond hair was ruffled from the breeze and seemed more gold in the light of the sun that shone down upon them all like a spotlight on a stage.

Mollie didn’t respond to him. She turned to Araya swiftly.

“What’s he talking about?” she hissed.

Araya grimaced and this seemed to amuse the blond Lyon even more.

“Well…we were talking about your training before,” she mumbled sensing the obvious tension. “And…well – Caius saw it more fitting that you train with Zephyr rather than me. My expertise is needed for other plans...it would be too difficult for me to manage both -”

Mollie felt her face flame.

“And why would he think that?”

“Are you questioning my fathers judgment?”

Zephyr’s deep drawl intercepted between the two of them and Mollie gave him an irritated look.

“Trust me, I’m not jumping for joy either,” Zephyr muttered turning on his heel to sling a bag of materials over his arm. “But we have a mission to complete whether you like it or not.” 

With that he turned and began to walk towards another clearing adjacent to the one they were currently standing on. It was smaller and dotted with markings across the expansive floor. It must have been a training ground of some sort.

Mollie felt her heart sink. She wanted to complain – throw a tantrum – stomp her foot down at the unfairness, but she knew it wouldn’t do much use. If anything – it would probably further destroy her credibility. She had to suck it up and be mature about it – as much as she loathed the idea.

“Zephyr is a formidable teacher Mollie,” Araya said quietly. He trains a lot of the young from the villages. All of them are on our top line now,” she murmured. “Zen is the best teacher by far. If anyone can get you into top shape its _him.”_

“Who taught him?” she muttered crossing her arms.

Araya smirked. 

“You’ll have to ask him that.”

Mollie rolled her eyes.

“Just remember,” Araya added before Mollie could follow Zen to the clearing. “Zephyr is your mentor now. With that designation comes a lot of duties and lessons to uphold. Completion of the five pillars is no easy feat Mollie.”

Mollie said nothing.

She turned around stiffly and headed towards the clearing, letting her legs propel her forward. She had nothing else to say.

***

“Stand still and straight.”

Mollie exhaled with a huff but did what was asked.

Zen had a way of ordering her around that seemed bossy and condescending and it irritated her.

His blue eyes had zeroed in on her lithe frame, taking extra time to linger on her slightly curved torso before landing on her chest.

Mollie saw his lip twitch and she quickly crossed her arms over her chest.

“You have no manners,” she snapped as she glared at him

She felt the anger surge when he began to laugh.

“I’m your mentor. You’re going to have to get used to me observing you. And closely too.”

He had circled around her, taking his time to squeeze her skinny forearms, measure her height and weight, as well as her ability to jump and the time it took for her to sprint once around the massive lake. 

She was panting by the time she was finished. He continued to observe her stoically, his arms crossed and his expression strict.

“You’ve got long legs,” he commented as Mollie struggled to catch her breath. “That’s an asset. And your reflexes aren’t bad for an amateur. You can learn and quickly, if you’re willing to put in the sweat and tears.”

Mollie frowned as Zen flipped his own dagger in his hand absent-mindedly. She was drawn to his unique colours, the bright green stones shimmering off the harsh, spiky blade. It had aspects that reflected that of its owner.

Mollie’s eyes had wandered to the armoury that took up the majority of the back wall in the training ground and she noticed that Zen had followed her gaze.

“It’s hand to hand combat before you even _touch_ any of those.”

The warning tone of his voice shook Mollie from her thought and she rolled her eyes.

“I was just looking,” she said flatly. “Plus how am I supposed to know what weapon to choose if I don’t think about it first?”

Zen laughed mockingly at her.

“You can’t consider a weapon when you don’t even know what skills you possess,” he said sharply.

He turned to look at her suddenly. 

“Do you think I _chose_ the desertblade as my weapon?”

Mollie tensed at his sudden shift in tone.

Fluidly, he pulled the blade from the hilt in his waist and Mollie watched him expertly manoeuvre the blade so it glinted in the hot sun and caught the brown waves of the russet hills. 

“Feel it.”

Mollie hesitated as he gestured with his chin for her to proceed.

Tentatively, she stroked her fingers against the heated metal. She recoiled at the intense heat at first but slowly her fingers adjusted to the warm blade till the sensation mimicked a spark rather than a flame.

“Imagine holding onto this during battle.”

Zen’s voice was a soft murmur and Mollie had to lean in closer to listen to him. 

“I grew up in a nomadic desert Mollie. I’ve had years to acclimatize to my surroundings including the elements that make it so unbearable.”

Mollie frowned.

“I grew up in the southern countryside,” she argued ignoring the burning sensation of the blade against her palm as she pushed herself to hold the blade longer. “I know how to handle the heat.”

Zen took a step back and laughed.

It was the first time Mollie had seen him genuinely laugh, not out of scorn or sarcasm and she scowled. 

“What?” she questioned.

“That was a joke right? Tell me that was a joke.”

Mollie sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as she grabbed the makeshift blade Zen had given her before and pointed it at him. 

“Stop laughing at me,” she screeched.

Zen was shaking his head at this point, the remnants of tears in the corner of his eyes.

“Now I see why the prince thought it best you stick to finger painting.”

In a state of anger Mollie had attempted to swipe the makeshift blade at Zen in an attempt to engage him in battle but she stumbled bumping into his bicep instead and yelped when the blade twisted in her hand.

Mollie only registered her twisting legs after she had lost her balance and felt the air leave her lungs as she fell forward, the sandy ground filling her vision at an alarmingly fast rate.

Before forehead could touch stone Mollie felt a strong grip catch her as Zen threaded his arms through her own to wrap strongly around her waist.

At an even faster speed Mollie was upright again and angry blue eyes were boring into her own from above. 

“Are you out of your _mind?”_

Mollie recoiled at the anger in his tone and she looked fearfully at Zephyr who was visibly fuming. 

“You’re pregnant for fucks sake Mollie. You can’t go around lunging knives at people. Don’t be so foolish.”

Mollie was taken aback by the comment and for a moment she did feel a sense of shame.

Before she could react Zephyr was reaching for her wrist, his rough warm fingers prying open her own.

“Now look what you did.”

His voice was swift and irritated. 

It had seemed her attempt to hurt him had done nothing but hinder further training and cause more unnecessary harm to herself.

Without waiting for a response Zen pulled her firmly across the training clearing towards the medic centre near the back.

He had a no nonsense aura to him that teetered on the realm of indifference but Mollie figured it was just his way of getting his tasks done efficiently and diligently. 

Mollie winced as he hurriedly pulled a vial of alcohol from the cupboard and thrust her palm forward to meet the pungent clear liquid.

He seemed to notice Mollie’s discomfort and gradually he slowed his movements. 

He was muttering to himself – something along the lines of never before having to take a student to the medic centre on their first day.

Mollie could tell he wasn’t used to being gentle, and his dealings with her were completely new territory for him. 

He was quiet for a moment as the alcohol burned at the sides of her torn flesh where the blade had sliced a small but relatively deep incision in her palm. 

“What the hell happened to your fingers here?”

Mollie looked up in surprise when Zen thumbed the almost faded but still slightly bluish skin that lined the pads of her middle three fingers.

Micah had been so gentle with her when she had been injured. He was almost fluid in his movements, so elegant. Mollie hadn’t realized quite how pleasant those gestures were till she had received the opposite treatment.

“I burned them in _Icedalar,”_ she said bluntly.

Zen looked at her.

“You burned your fingers in the fucking arctic?”

Mollie scowled at his crass response as he tightened his grip on her wrist as she attempted to pry away from his grasp.

“Let me _go,”_ she complained as Zen finally let her free. He brought his fingers to his temples and Mollie realized it was a trait he must have gotten from his father.

“This is going to be _so_ much more difficult than I thought.”

Mollie ignored his grumblings as she reached for the gauze herself and clumsily wrapped the bleeding wound in the soft material.

As he held her wrist in his Mollie caught site of a bracelet wrapped loosely around his wrist. 

Mollie could make out a single name embedded in the leather in delicate silver scrawl.

_Viv_

From the distance, Mollie could hear the sound of the chimes indicating that it was already well past 8. 

She could feel Zen’s gaze on her and she childishly kept her gaze averted as he brushed past her. 

“Don’t think you're off the hook because of a little scratch. We continue training until you get it right.”

Mollie stiffened as he turned to give her one last menacing glare.

“And that includes all night if you don’t catch on fast enough.”

Mollie sighed and ignored the throbbing of her hand.

At this moment, she would have gladly taken three hours of French lessons with Cécily over what lay before her now.

***

It was the beginning of sunrise when Mollie found her way back to her room. 

She couldn’t feel her legs nor her arms and her back ached with every push forward she took. 

As she collapsed on her bed she heard a sharp knock at her door.

“Go away,” Mollie moaned as the door cracked open.

She sighed when Jöel appeared around the corner. 

“Zen is waiting at the dock for you,” he said with a half smile.

“What?” Mollie said jerking up. “But we just finished a lesson less than ten minutes ago!”

Jöel gave her an apologetic smile.

“Welcome to the club.”

***

Mollie was squinting against the sweltering sun that was beating down upon her as she held her position.

Her tunic was wet against her back and she felt dizzy from the desert sun beating down upon her.

Zen appeared unaffected. He always did. He seemed immune to the elements, as if this heat was to be expected. He was watching her, his sharp eyes taking in every slight movement of her body. 

"What is this?" he whispered close to her ear from behind giving her a sharp pinch on the underside of her arm. "I don't want chicken wing formations on my training ground."

She winced tightening her posture and feeling the burning sensation of her muscles protesting against the subtle action. 

Zen took his time observing her closely pacing forwards and backwards in a circuit before he gave her a hard tap on her shoulder eliciting a painful groan from the girl.

“Relax.”

Mollie felt as if those words couldn’t come soon enough and she exhaled sharply feeling her joints ache as the tension in her bones released.

“We’re going to do what we did yesterday alright?”

Mollie was always struck but how quickly Zen could transition from the menacing Lyon she knew so well to the strict teacher that he was to her now. 

“This time we’re not focusing on your precision. We’re focusing on your strength.”

Mollie gulped. Her skinny arms seemed even more pathetic now that he mentioned it.

“I want you to lunge for my chest and hit me as hard as you can.”

Mollie felt close to exhaustion after the last arduous task he had put her through. But this new challenge filled her with a reservoir of fresh energy that put a smile on her face. He didn’t have to ask her twice.

“Gladly.”

Mollie took a few quick steps backwards then proceeded to shove her fisted hand as hard as she could towards Zephyr’s chest and cried out when she hit what felt like solid rock.

Zephyr snorted as she recoiled in pain.

“Really?” he said with a frown.

Mollie went again, using her other fist and was met with the same pain that vibrated downwards from her knuckles to her forearm.

He didn’t even flinch.

Both punches left her empty of air in her lungs and she was breathing rapidly as he stared at her.

He seemed almost….insulted.

Mollie grit her teeth at his expression. It was bored. Mocking. Unimpressed.

She took one step back again and flexed her fingers before she fisted them. She felt the tension in her shoulders let up a bit and she swung with more speed this time aiming for the centre of his chest.

Mollie huffed when Zen caught her fist in his palm before she could make contact with his chest.

“That was better,” he commented. “You had momentum that time that would have relayed more energy than the first two times you swung.”

Mollie frowned. She wanted to hit him and hard. She had the feeling he knew this but he just smirked. He liked that she was in a submissive position she could tell. She didn’t know what it was about Lyon men but they seemed to get a hell of a kick out of seeing their female counterparts in vulnerable positions. 

He moved to stand behind her, his incredibly large frame blocking out the sun that had been roasting her back for the past couple of hours. 

“Feel this,” he murmured squeezing her skinny forearms. “This needs to be locked when you punch. Keep your entire arm flexed for the duration of the punch. You want to deliver the maximum energy you possibly can when in combat.”

“But I’ll be with a weapon won’t I?” she muttered as he squeezed her arm continually until he felt the resistance he wanted.

“You should be equally as dangerous _without_ a weapon as you are with one.”

Mollie fell silent.

“Your weapon should not be the deciding factor in what makes you a threat Mollie. It’s supposed to add to you, _complement_ you. You cannot rely on it wholeheartedly. You must rely on yourself first.”

She huffed and practiced her punch with both arms as Zephyr talked her through the process. Mollie would have never imagined that so much thought would have gone into something as simple as a punch. How wrong she was.

“Again,” Zephyr muttered as Mollie punched through the air time and time again. Each time it seemed, her mentor had something more to add or some other correction to see to. 

It seemed like hours had gone by before he finally decided to step in front of her once again.

Mollie could feel her baby hairs stuck fast against her forehead from sweat and she scowled at how unaffected Zen looked in front of her.

“Now look down.”

Mollie looked down and spotted the painted circles that lined the training ground.

The circle was medium sized, giving Mollie enough room to step forward once in any direction she saw fit – forward , backward, or to either side. It wasn’t large enough to allow any further movement though and she followed Zephyr’s movement closely as he stepped into the circle directly across from hers.

“This time when you punch, I want you to propel yourself with maximal energy the way we’ve been practicing _without_ you stepping out of your circle.”

Mollie tensed.

“Look at me Mollie,” he murmured. She looked up to meet dark blue eyes piercing into her own brown ones. “Everything is in that bubble alright? Your entire life, your existence is in that bubble. The minute you step outside of it, it’s over. This applies to any kind of combat be it hand to hand, sword, or spear.”

Mollie nodded. 

“From here on out, I never want to see you leave that circle when you attempt to engage in combat. Are we clear? You must learn to move your body accordingly and in sync with your own centre of gravity.”

Mollie nodded again.

“I said are we clear?”

Mollie shot him a dirty look. The question was uncannily familiar to her and she scowled.

“Yes _Sir.”_

She didn’t mean to add the title when she replied but she saw Zephyr’s lip tighten at her smartness.

“It’s just Zen,” he said between clenched teeth. “None of that title shit.”

He turned around then and stalked over to the armoury and returned quite quickly unrolling a thick fabric in his hands.

“Wrap your hands in this,” he muttered. 

Mollie mirrored his movements wrapping the fabric around her fists and tying it in a similar fashion. 

“We keep going,” he murmured taking a step back and brushing his blond fringe from his forehead. 

Mollie frowned. Her knuckles were already bruised from the first couple of hits that she had attempted and she could see the first dots of blood spurting at the creases of her fingers.

Zephyr gave her a humourless smile as she observed her fingers. 

“If I had it my way, I would teach you properly. Step by step and slowly. But that takes years Mollie. We don’t have that time so I’ve decided to give you the somewhat condensed version.”

Mollie was still frowning as she looked down at her fingers -- numb and bruised as she tried unsuccessfully to flex them.

She heard Zephyr’s exasperated sigh from in front of her. 

_“Again.”_

Mollie swallowed the pain and brought her arms back. As much as she disliked Zephyr Lyon she had more pressing enemies on her mind. Instead she pictured James and Hartley Lyon in front of her, the way their brown emotionless eyes scanned over their prey like a lion does his first kill. She found her pain easier to ignore when she pictured them in front of her. 

Biting her lip hard she threw herself into her punches, imagining that with each swing – she was bringing her fist closer and closer to Hartley Lyon’s throat.

***

The days passed by in a similar manner and each day Mollie felt her bones begin to ache more and more.

She realized quickly that stepping out of her circle was met with a harsh punishment from Zen and she slowly began to find ways around the restricted space by becoming flexible in certain tactful ways. Combat really was a game of reflexes and clever anticipation and with swift realization Mollie soon began to see how to acquire the skill. She was no where close to Zen’s level – she never would be-- but at least she’d have experience under her belt. 

“Do you think you can run the circle before we start with the fists?”

Mollie rolled her eyes.

“Why wouldn’t you think so?”

Zen’s eyes flickered to her abdomen and Mollie stilled.

She wasn’t huge…but still the extra weight was another burden on Mollie’s already troubled shoulders – or in the more physical aspect to her legs and her back.

“I’m fine.”

She had continually put off going to see the doctor. Her avoidance was her way of making her entire ordeal seem less real. Mollie knew she couldn’t put it off forever – but for now ignoring it was her escape and she would take refuge in whatever time it offered for her. 

When she returned back to her little circle in front of Zen she noticed the pleased expression on his face.

“That’s impressive. You were faster today than on your first run and that was weeks ago.”

 _Weeks._ She had almost forgotten how much time had passed by. Mollie was pleased herself too. Maybe this wouldn’t be as impossible as she once thought…

***

This morning was no different from any other and Mollie knew the routine. As she dressed in her simple white tunic and pants she made her way towards the training ground -- the crack of dawn bathing the lower clearing in a warm orange glow. She found it easier to train at these times of the days -- whether it was sunrise or sunset. Anytime between that allowed the full strength of the sun to glare down upon her in a way that threatened her stamina. 

She yelped as an arm swung around her as she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, directly intercepting her path towards the training clearing. 

“You’re not putting this off any longer Mollie.”

Mollie protested as Araya gripped her tightly by the arm – dragging her towards the medic centre she had visited only once before. 

“You need to take this seriously.”

Mollie huffed at her tone feeling a sharp spike of anxiety surge through her as they approached the plain white door.

“I _am_ taking this seriously.”

Arayalynn ignored her, knocking raptly on the door once before a kind older gentleman opened the door.

“Ah Araya,” he said giving her a warm embrace. “Hopefully not another blood wound? I am low on suturing material.”

“Not today Darien,” she said with a light laugh. “I’m here with another more urgent issue…”

Mollie ignored their silent exchange and reddened as the doctor peered closely at her. Mollie guessed he must have been in his fifties by his greying hair and thick beard. He had a skin tone similar to Kaveh’s -- a rich brown that had seen many days spent in the sun.

“Ah. A new recruit—how wonderful,” he said with a hidden smile. “This way my dear.”

“Do you want me here?” Araya asked quietly as Mollie followed the doctors orders and lay down on the thin parchment covered bed.

“Like I have a choice,” Mollie muttered. Araya rolled her eyes as she helped Mollie perch on the elevated bed.

“I was just being polite,” she grumbled as the doctor turned back around. 

He seemed to pause for a moment as if he were looking at Mollie for the first time in his life.

He looked questioningly at Araya who gave him an equally stiff expression and Mollie watched the exchange in silent fury. She was seething.

“I see,” he said all of a sudden walking towards the end of the bed his eyes flickering to the small but noticeable bulge stretching from Mollie’s abdomen. 

"Who's the lucky fellow?" he asked with a grin. Mollie grimaced at the comment as he placed his hands gingerly on her small protrusion of a belly and prodded slowly.

Mollie swallowed trying to ignore the discomfort of his hands on her stomach. Araya was standing beside her – her expression almost faraway. 

Whatever the doctor was thinking – he did not voice it-- but Mollie could tell there was a burning curiosity behind his words. She figured he didn’t get many pregnant Insurgency members. The whole concept seemed completely ludicrous to Mollie and she ignored the awkward silence hanging in the air as the doctor examined her thoroughly. 

“May I ask when you think conception occurred?”

Mollie looked up startled. 

Araya turned to the doctor quite quickly. It was almost as if she had rehearsed this before.

“We are not sure of the exact date of conception but we have reason to believe she’s around 10 weeks.”

Mollie glared at Araya who gave her a warning look. 

“Hm,” he commented inching down so that he rested between Mollie’s legs. “May I?” he asked.

Mollie knew he was also being formal and she swallowed her embarrassment and nodded. It was now or never.

As he gingerly peeled down her layers to “examine” her Mollie glued her eyes to Araya who looked just as nervous as she did. 

Mollie ignored the discomfort and found her mind going through memories of the last time she had been lying down on a bed with her legs spread. The memory was still so vivid. She felt herself squirming as she remembered the feeling of the prince ghosting his cold lips against her thighs, his mess of dark curls brushing her abdomen as he brought his lips further and further _downwards_ -

_Micah._ He was the reason she was in the position she was now. She swallowed those memories away. She couldn't let herself dwell on them. Not now. 

The doctor re-appeared from between her legs-- his expression one of perplexity.

“Hm,” he repeated turning around towards his desk.

“What is it?” Araya snapped.

Mollie turned to the side. She should care shouldn’t she? Her concern should mirror that of the others in the room.

 _But why couldn’t she bring herself to?_ Images of the little boy from her dreams flashed through her mind and Mollie felt a horrible clenching in her abdomen. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think- 

The doctor turned around to face the both of them – his voice tense.

“I’d say she’s around 15 weeks pregnant. And abnormally large for someone at this stage.”

Araya stepped closer to Mollie, her fingers inching over the railings on either side of the bed. Mollie said nothing.

The doctor peeled off his gloves with a sigh, his gaze glued to Mollie’s stomach.

“At four months, the foetus is usually around four inches and the size of a pear…unless…” the doctor trailed off for a moment his expression teetering between confusion and trepidation. 

“Unless what?” Araya demanded.

The doctor had turned around and reached for a long thin wooden device that sent Mollie closing her legs in fear as he inched closer to her. 

“Relax dear,” he murmured absentmindedly placing the wooden tube against her belly and leaning in close so his ear brushed the material. 

Mollie stilled as Araya stared in silence.

He looked up at them in amusement as they both stared at him stony faced. 

“I always preferred mediate auscultation over immediate auscultation.”

None of them said a word as the doctor perched on the edge of his seat listening intently through the small contraption he had assembled beside them. 

Carefully he pulled back placing the device gently on the table behind them and turned towards Mollie.

“That there is a stethoscope,” he explained. “It is what allowed me to listen to the heartbeat of your baby.”

“And?” Araya whispered. 

“It is good. Strong.” The doctor said with amusement. “There are _two_ very strong heartbeats.”

Mollie froze as Araya’s face paled.

“Congratulations,” he said with a smile. “God has blessed you with two miracles.”

Mollie felt a cold numbing feeling take over as the doctors words circulated in her head. 

“How would we like to proceed?” the doctor asked.

Mollie had zoned out for some time as Araya quietly conversed with the doctor. Here she was -- miles away from the Lyon empire with not one...but _two_ heirs of the throne in her womb. Her children -- who would be half Lyon blood. What life would there be for them in this world? In a world where their own flesh and blood could beat them with a chain to their back without a single regret? A world where they were slaves to the empire they were born into?

Mollie had picked up on snippets on the conversation – something about further down the line and she stood up shakily.

“Mollie?” Araya asked concernedly.

“There won’t be a next time,” Mollie choked looking between the doctor and Araya who looked at her confusedly.

“What are you talking about?” Araya asked her brows furrowing.

“There’s no need to worry about further down the line because I’m not doing this. I..I _can’t.”_

Mollie felt the tears begin to drop from her lids and she ignored Araya as she protested trying to reach for her.

“You don’t know what you’re saying Mollie,” Araya called out as Mollie slid to her feet.

“I can speak for myself,” Mollie said shrilly. 

Araya sighed.

“Please if I may,” the doctor interjected sensing Mollie’s obvious distress.

“No you may not,” she snapped pulling her tunic down.

Mollie didn’t linger to gauge his reaction. She pushed past the door ignoring the stuffy heat that engulfed her as she walked through the sandy terrain. She ignored the calls from Araya behind her.

Mollie wasn’t quite sure what to call it but at the back of her mind it was almost as if she _knew_ of her predicament long before the doctor told her. Perhaps that is why she had put off seeing him for so long. It was a tugging lingering possibility at the back of her mind that she didn’t want to consider. That she had refused to. 

She spotted Zephyr and Caden sparring in the main training clearing and she picked up her pace.

He had turned to her before she could call him, his eyes squinting against the relentless sun as it shone down proud and strong above them. His blond hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and the gold streaks reflected the light like raindrops on a window. 

In that moment she knew who she wanted to speak to as she blinked the tears in her vision away. She knew whose perspective she craved most. She needed clarity now before she made a decision with repercussions that would torment her for years to come, and she had every anticipation of finding it in the person she least expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> René Theophile Hyacinthe Laënnec created the first stethoscope in 1816. His model is what the stethoscope in canon is based off of.


	37. Rubidium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie makes a decision. Things begin to heat up in the North.

It was late one evening, before they took a break for dinner that Zen grabbed Mollie’s hand before she could leave. It caught her by surprise but even so, she didn’t show it. She barely showed any emotion these days – not since her dreaded appointment with the doctor weeks ago. 

Zephyr usually turned around and left himself, letting Mollie decide when she knew she was proficient enough in a certain skill to acknowledge completion of the lesson. It didn’t take her long to realize that the _intention_ was that she remain there for a longer period of time despite Zen’s departure. She cringed at an earlier memory of him pulling her right back to the training clearing after she had misjudged what it meant to truly complete a lesson. 

As he grabbed her sleeve now Mollie noticed a somewhat softer expression on his usually stoic features. 

“You….you’re improving.”

His tone was stern as he addressed her but Mollie knew he was somewhat relieved that she was in fact teachable. He was usually a robot during her training and if not, then he was yelling at her. But he had been quieter tonight. Mollie had noticed that much. Mollie failed to crack a smile. Rather, she failed to show much emotion at all these days. Mollie felt his eyes on her as he released her wrist and let her walk away towards the sleeping quarters. 

Araya had refused to talk to her after Mollie had voiced her thoughts over whether she would keep the babies or not. It was as if a switch had gone off in Araya’s head and Mollie attributed this to her Lyon upbringing. Abortion was a crime in the Lyon regime for as long as Mollie could remember. To her surprise however, the Ophians were more than willing to indulge her interest. They respected the choice Mollie faced and laid out the options she had. Now that the option was available... she was grappling with it.

Mollie was on limited time. She couldn’t wait too long. The longer she waited the more dangerous the procedure became. She had to choose. And soon. 

To keep her mind off of these pressing matters she distracted herself as much as she could.

She worked and she trained. That’s what she threw herself into these days. She didn’t converse with the group anymore. Instead she spent what little free time she had by the waterfall in the courtyard. The sound of rushing water was comforting to her. It resurfaced memories of the countryside – of her home. When it came to her training she knew she was doing well. She could feel it. Her blocks came more naturally and her steps mirrored her thoughts rather than the other way around. She also _felt_ better. She was usually dead exhausted after a training session with Zen but today she felt re-energized, almost as if she could go another round. 

The only hinderance to Mollie’s ability to train was the swell in her belly that seemed to grow almost as quickly as she acquired each subsequent new skill.

It was a race against time now and she knew Zen knew this too. There would come a point where it really did become too dangerous for her to actively spar with another person while pregnant. This was yet another reason Mollie was tempted to free of herself of this burden. 

It was late in the evening, well after dinner, where Mollie seated herself next to the waterfall, letting the sound of the water lull her into a light relaxing slumber. It reminded her of home. Her real home in Riverton. She relished in the soft droplets of water that sprayed against her cheek as she rested it against the cool white stone railings on the balcony of her sleeping quarters. 

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. 

“Hey you.”

Mollie jerked awake. She’d know that harsh tone anywhere.

She didn’t turn her head as she felt a presence lingering behind her. She didn’t have the energy to fight with anyone. Not even Zephyr Lyon.

The sound of a soft grunt beside her peaked her curiosity somewhat and she watched as Zephyr brought his incredibly tall frame to the ground as he perched on the edge of the circular balcony beside her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she muttered. “This is the womans quarters.”

He just shrugged unperturbed by Mollie’s comment. She didn’t even bother asking how he had snuck in unnoticed – she didn’t care enough to.

“You didn’t strike me as the type to snitch.”

Mollie ignored him choosing to close her eyes instead. 

There was a long silence between them – the only other sound being the splashing of the water against the crystal clear bottom of the tributary that lay below them. Mollie was a little surprised but she was by no means baffled by the blond Lyon's presence. Zephyr and her had learned to treat each other civilly while in the company of others. It didn't start out like that- not at all. But as their time together became a constant --so did their ability to tolerate each other. Oftentimes they'd silently eat their lunch together before returning to training or complete their post workout routines across from each other.

As they sat in comfortable silence Mollie turned to look at him. His hair was long, golden, and wavy. Unkept but thick and lustrous all the same. Mollie wondered how different Zephyr would have been had he acknowledged his royalty -- had grown up surrounded by the riches bestowed upon a prince of royal blood. He was handsome... there was no doubt about it and Mollie figured he would have been a pretty popular prince both with the commoners and elite members of the monarchy had he grown up in Questershire with the rest of his family. Mollie wondered if it ate at him that his cousins -- the people he called his sworn enemies -- maintained so much power and privilege. Did he envy them or pity them? She did not know. 

The press of her belly against the railing lurched Mollie back into a more ominous reality and she swallowed uneasily as she remembered her somewhat abysmal circumstances.

“What made you change your mind?”

Mollie’s blunt question was abrupt and demanding but she knew Zephyr wouldn’t care. He was rather like that himself to begin with.

Zen sighed.

She turned to look at him. His skin was bronzed, his blue eyes like two sparkling gems against his tanned skin. He had on a thick sweater, the chilly evening threatening an even colder temperature drop as the night wore on.

He took his time before he responded.

“Priorities.”

Mollie frowned at the vague response.

He rolled his eyes at her stiff expression and shook his head as if in frustration.

“Regardless of what I or anyone says. It will always be your decision. Not mine, not Araya’s and certainly not the fucking winter prince’s. You do what you think is right.”

Mollie felt tears begin to blur her vision as she stared down at her belly.

“But what if I don’t know what’s right?” she whispered. Her hand lingered just above the bulge of her belly. A part of her wanted to love the beings she had created and another part of her wanted to free them. Liberate the lives she would give to her children whose destiny would only be rife with hardship and misery. No child deserved that. 

Zen was quiet as Mollie cried softly beside him. She didn’t cry in front of others – she hated feeling weak. She struggled to breathe as the tears racked her body vibrating her chest and swelling her throat. 

“I…I can’t bring two children into a world like this,” she sobbed.

“Mollie,” Zen said softly.

“I can’t give the winter prince what he wants.”

“Mollie relax.”

“What if they’re like him?”

Her voice trembled as she asked the last question and for a moment Mollie felt twelve again. She felt as if she had asked the very same question to her own mother once a long time ago.

What if she was like her own father?

Maybe she was. After all, she had never met him. Maybe there was something wrong with him that he had passed on to her too.

“Hush.”

The softness of the voice startled Mollie and she stilled as Zen crushed her against his chest. She wasn’t expecting it but the close contact enveloped Mollie in a bubble of comfort she hadn’t felt in ages. He was so massive and warm and protective and Mollie cried hard as he held her against him until her sobs turned into quiet whimpers. He had a rough woodsy scent to him. Like charcoal and fire and musk that reminded Mollie of the outdoors. It was so different from the sensual frosty cologne of the winter prince.

“You’ll do the right thing Mollie,” he said gently, his grip on her not loosening even the slightest. “I know you will.”

She shook her head against his chest letting the soft fabric of his jersey soak in her tears. She stayed like that for a while, until her sobs turned into soft breaths.

“I think you overestimate my decision making abilities,” she mumbled against his chest.

She felt rather than heard the soft chuckle from him.

“As your mentor I think I have a pretty good grasp on you and your ability to make decisions.”

She sniffled quietly against his shirt. She had almost forgotten that this was the same person who had nearly thrown her down a rickety flight of stairs aboard the vessel only weeks ago. 

Or was it months?

“Araya will never forgive me if I go through with it,” she mumbled.

She heard Zen sigh as he brushed her hair over her shoulder. It was a fleeting gesture – but still it made Mollie’s skin tingle. 

“Araya…has her own reasons for that.” He seemed somewhat despondent after admitting so and Mollie looked up at him questioningly. “My sister can’t have kids Mollie,” he said bluntly. “She found out years ago.” Mollie froze in his arms after hearing this but Zen remained rather serene. “That’s why she reacted the way she did. It has nothing to do with you.”

Mollie knew of the horrible stigma that followed woman who struggled to bear children – especially within the Lyon regime. She suddenly felt selfish for not inquiring about Araya more. The girl had been nothing but nice to Mollie since she first arrived and Mollie had failed on more than one occasion to be a friend to her. She felt terrible.

“You hear me?” 

Zen nudged her softly breaking Mollie from her thoughts.

“I…was against you keeping the child at first,” he admitted bringing a hand back to brush his own hair backwards. The gesture reminded her starkly of Micah and she bit her lip avoiding his gaze. Instead Mollie focused on the fabric of his jersey as way to distract herself from the similarities between Zephyr and Micah Lyon. “But that stemmed more from my own prejudices against the winter prince.”

Mollie looked up at him but this time Zen purposely avoided her gaze. His jaw was locked and Mollie saw remnants of the Zephyr she was familiar with begin to creep back into his features. He had large blue eyes framed by an array of light lashes. However typical of the Lyon clan, he had those sinister dark brows adding an air of intimidation to his otherwise elegant features. The masculinity that radiated off of Zen was overwhelming and Mollie wondered if it was a conscious thing. He was not delicate, sculpted and primped like Micah was. He exposed himself to the elements and revelled in every scar, cut and bruise that lined his sun kissed skin. Maybe he was compensating for those delicate features -- trying to hide who he was behind another rougher exterior. Just thinking about Micah brought up something in Mollie's mind -- the hatred Zen Lyon harboured towards him. There was something more -- something unresolved between the two of them that Mollie was intrigued to find out. Zephyr's feelings towards Micah Lyon went deeper than the other members of the Insurgency -- Mollie could tell that much. Whatever unresolved issues Zephyr had with Micah was personal. 

“He hurt you,” she whispered. “Micah hurt you.”

Zen stiffened against her. His lips pursed and his expression darkened and Mollie swore she saw his nostrils flare slightly. It was all the indication she needed to confirm her suspicions.

“He hurt a lot of fucking people,” he growled his body jerking against her own. 

Mollie hesitated against him as his breathing gradually began to return to normal.

“But even though he doesn’t deserve a fucking child, my father is right. You and his spawn are the only leverage we have to properly negotiate with Micah Lyon.” Now Zen was the one to hesitate. “You keeping the child increases our chances of getting Isaac back,” he murmured. “Micah doesn’t trade things Mollie. He trades with peoples lives. That’s how Lyons negotiate.”

Mollie went still in his arms after Zephyr spoke.

“Hold on,” Mollie murmured pushing herself away from Zephyr who dropped his arms immediately. “Is…is that why you changed your mind about the abortion? Because you saw an opportunity? An opportunity to gain leverage over the Lyons?”

Zen’s face hardened and Mollie glared at him from her tear stained face.

“I've told you this multiple times Mollie. We do what we have to. If this brings us one step closer to taking down the Lyons. So be it."

Mollie's stomach clenched and she blinked away the fresh surge of wetness that flooded her eyes. 

“Are you manipulating me?” she screeched her eyes narrowing as her brown irises bore into Zephyr’s sea blue ones. “Are you manipulating me into keeping them?”

Zen scoffed, his austere persona replacing the soft gentle soul he had morphed into only moments before.

“Not at all,” he said harshly. “ I don’t have the time or patience for that shit. Do what you want Mollie. Keep it or don’t keep it. At the end of the day I don’t care. As long as I get my revenge on the Lyons I’ll be content-- be it through you or through some other means.”

Mollie frowned wiping the last remnants of her tears from her cheeks. Zephyr’s unabashed honesty was cruel and blunt but also telling. He wouldn’t hide anything from her – that much she was certain of. He laid things out on the table and set down his rules. He didn’t play to deceive or to manipulate. It wasn’t his style. 

“Whatever you decide to do -- you stick by that choice. Don’t let anyone sway you from it and for fucks sake think about the future before you come to a decision. Because once it's done...there's no going back. That’s my advice to you Mollie. As a mentor.”

Mollie watched him rise up from his perch on the balcony – his six foot five frame completely blocking the misty spray of water from the waterfall in front of them. 

His blond hair gleamed in the dark lighting like strings of gold in a wheatfield. 

“Get some sleep and quit with the moping around. I want you well rested and energized on my training ground tomorrow.”

She watched the massive blond Lyon walk away from her before dropping her gaze back down at the protruding belly in front of her. 

Wiping her stray tears away Mollie gasped when she felt a sudden strong nudge from her abdomen. The sensation was swift and caught her by surprise. She placed her hand on the soft swell of her belly. She was visibly showing now and she bit her lip hard as she felt the sensation from within her stir again. It was as if the little life forms inside the girl had heard her conversation and were reminding her of their presence. Taunting her. Making her choice _that_ much more difficult. 

***

Mollie spent her evenings much the same way, watching the sun set above the “sacred” waterfall that flowed across from the training clearing. She had a direct view of it from her balcony quarters and she liked feeling the soft sprays hit her as the water descended past the slippery cliff edge. 

“They’re moving.”

Mollie jerked when she caught site of Luna staring at her from the entrance to her chambers. Her eyes gave off a sultry violet glow and she moved gracefully and fluidly. She was petite in comparison to Mollie but her fierceness made her no less intimidating.

“She reacted the same way you know. Surprise. Always surprise. Never joy…just awe.”

Mollie felt her brows furrow as the woman came to stand next to her. 

She had a lingering-- almost melancholic presence. Though Mollie figured that was not too far off from her own ambiance these days. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mollie said flatly tucking her curly hair behind her ears. She was still on edge after her tense conversation with Zen. Instead of the closure she expected after speaking with him she felt as if she had returned immediately back to square one.

Luna laughed, the chiming sound echoing across the balcony.

“Of course you do." She pointed at Mollie's throat. "The woman who wore that necklace before you. Though I must say you handled it better than she did. She was a wreck.”

This caught Mollie’s attention and she whipped her head towards the woman.

“Izabel Lyon?”

Luna smiled.

“Ah Izabel. You’re kind of like her, in a rather...peculiar way. Your energy is similar. Vibrant, but composed, intelligent but wary. In love but in denial.”

Mollie frowned.

“I’m nothing like Izabel.”

The way she said it was glum and she sighed heavily. The woman shot her a calculated look. Her hair was dark, long and sleek, parted in the centre and straighter than the sharp edge of a sword. 

“How did you come by her cloak?”

Mollie shivered under the womans fierce gaze.

“Some maid at the manor gave it to me, I didn’t go looking for it,” she said softly.

“Precisely,” Luna said coolly. “And I’m sure that necklace found its way to you without you searching for it as well.”

Mollie swallowed uneasily and looked away.

“That’s….a coincidence.”

“Right,” said Luna with a poorly concealed smile. “Us Ophians may be notoriously religious…but we don’t believe in coincidences.” 

Her violet eyes almost glowed in the dim lighting. Mollie found her stare intense, almost equivalently to that of Micah’s. They both had an unnatural glow to them…it made Mollie’s skin prickle.

“What happened to her Luna? What happened to Izabel?”

Luna blinked at her, the shadow of a smile still painted on her soft features. 

“You sailed from the Lyon regime did you not? I would have thought you’d be able to tell me.”

“She’s dead.” Mollie said bluntly turning her gaze back to the waterfall.

Luna was unruffled by the comment in a sweepingly fluid gesture she looped her arm through Mollie’s. 

“Perhaps we can take a walk?”

***

The waterfall was louder where they were on the main level, the balconies of the sleeping quarters circling high above them. 

It was quiet at this late hour – everyone else had already long since retired back to their rooms and only the soft glow of the candlelight surrounding the twisting walkway illuminated the path ahead. 

Mollie paused as Luna ventured closer to the gushing water. She was unaffected by the misty sprays that hit them at this close proximity. Gently, she cupped her hands in the moving stream and drank contentedly from the source.

She turned to Mollie as she sipped the water from her cupped palms.

“Try some Miss. There is no purer water you will find anywhere else on this Earth.”

“It’s just Mollie,” the girl said hesitantly as Luna urged her forward. “And I don’t think that’s safe. Remnants of parasites can still exist, even in moving water.”

Luna laughed.

“You are on sacred land in _Anubis._ This land has not been corrupted by those who invade and industrialize. There is no need to worry about such things. This waterfall is a vestige of nature in in its most unadulterated form.”

Mollie was reluctant, but at the same time she did not want to offend the woman. Carefully she bent down to her level, resting lightly on her knees, and cupped her hands in a similar way letting them catch the clear liquid in her palms. The water was cool – a pleasant temperature for a drink and Mollie brought the liquid slowly to her lips.

She could feel Luna’s eyes on her as she drank deeply, the sweet water quenching her insides with its cooling sensation. Luna was right. This water was different – Mollie would daresay even coveted. She had never consumed water so sweet, purifying, and satisfying in her life. 

Almost drunkenly Mollie cupped her hands for another deep drink before Luna gently laid her hands on her wrists.

“Careful Miss. Do not over indulge.”

Mollie halted almost immediately – what the woman had told her before resurfacing in her mind.

“My apologies,” she murmured, quickly straightening up. Mollie felt refreshed – so much better and fulfilled. Almost as if one drink had re-nourished and re-vitalized her after so many weeks of misery. 

They continued down the pathway that curled underneath the waterfall before circling back around the main pathway that would lead them back to the training ground and ultimately the sleeping quarters.

“This waterfall here is the end of the stream that glides deep into the forest we passed on the outskirts of _Anubis_ – a little further down from the port.” Luna was incredibly elegant as she glided beside Mollie. Her soft murmurs were a pleasant addition to the sound of rushing water and the alluring scent of melted wax from burning candlelight.

“This is not the same river we crossed on our way to the main city?” Mollie asked. 

Luna shook her head.

“No. That is the _Morte_ River that we crossed.” She seemed sad as she mentioned it to Mollie. “That river once united _Devonis_ and the Ophian Empire. It flows directly upstream towards the _Devonis_ city. Their greed for oil has caused massive spills in the river – for this reason it is no longer safe to drink.”

The evening chill was more of a pleasant coolness tonight and Mollie’s interest in the politics between the different cities was fruitfully rekindled.

“The river was so beautiful once,” Luna murmured as they passed underneath the gushing waterfall above them. “It was known for its abundance of yellow leaved waterlilies and green sheathed daffodils. It was cold too. Always so cold in spite of the blistering heat of our lands. It was a source of immediate gratification for anyone who walked these lands.” She frowned as she continued speaking. “That was until its exploitation. It was quickly penned the River of _Morte_ after several foreigners docked their boats here centuries ago and drank from the river upon arrival. Killed every single one of them.” Her violet eyes glossed over to Mollie. 

“Morte,” Mollie whispered. “Death. These invaders spoke French.”

Luna nodded. “Of course. The Lyons are an old ancient family Miss. They’re satiation for invasion and power has been a staple of their generation for years.”

“They blame your people for those deaths didn’t they?”

Luna smiled humourlessly. 

“A regime like the Lyons – with a hunger for power will blame everybody but themselves when things go horribly wrong. Yet it was their greed – their lust for money and total disregard for mother nature that caused the death of their own people. Had they respected the land they reached, had learned gentler ways to extract resources in the past, had understood the benefits of resisting temptation...no one would have died upon touching the rivers water to their lips.”

“You still do business with them though?” Mollie asked as they emerged from the shielded cover of the waterfall. 

“Of course. The Lyon Regime is powerful. It would be foolish not to. However, engaging in business with one nation does not make them allies. Not even close. We do what we need to ensure the survival of our own nation.”

“What’s on the other side of the Ophian Empire?” Mollie asked curiously. 

Luna shrugged.

“Well there’s the city of _Peréal_ in the Marchesseault regime and further north is the city of Beacon Cape.”

“Are they allies?”

“No,” Luna said sharply. “The Marchesseaults are sharks, they are constantly on the hunt for new land. Beacon Cape is neutral. No one wants to travel that far North anyways. We have our boundaries with both of them and there is mutual respect for the rules.”

Mollie nodded.

“Are the Marchesseault’s like the Lyons?” Mollie asked hesitantly. She was not sure of the political ties between these monarchies but she had heard the Marchesseault regime was quite well off. They had outstanding fisheries and mining there. They attributed the majority of their wealth in that facet. They, like other regimes such as the Rineau Regime, were also royally ruled. Mollie was sure only Beacon Cape and the Ophian Empire were the exceptions.

“Yes and no,” Luna said with a shrug as she bent down to re-illuminate some of the candles that had gone out since they had last passed by. “Alexandre Marchesseault is a smart but diplomatic man. He is negotiable and loyal to his word. He also has a good sturdy population behind him and he is well received. However he too has a tendency to encroach on land that does not belong to him. But unlike the Lyons he pays more heed to treaty rights and land boundaries. However these days he has been rather quiet. His health is not good...”

Luna’s voice had gone stiffer as she finished.

“King Alexandre understands the importance of preservation. He benefits from the spoils of these lands as much as we do. But he lacks certain more... _coveted_ resources.”

Mollie matched Luna’s knowing gaze, those violet irises halting Mollie in her steps.

“Iridium,” she said softly. “You know how to extract it don’t you?”

Luna chuckled at her comment.

“Our people have benefited off the spoils of iridium for years – long before the rebellion that freed us from the tyranny of dictatorship.”

“Is it true?” Mollie asked in a hushed tone. “All the things people say it can do?”

“Rumours don’t just start from nothing Miss,” Luna said with a smile. “Izabel asked me the very same thing many years ago.”

Mollie stopped in her tracks.

“You know what was funny about it?” Luna murmured unperturbed by Mollie’s sudden movements. “She too was pregnant and took a walk with me on this same path…23 years ago now I’d say. It was such a struggle to get her to stop drinking from the waterfall. She was easily tempted you see. She was used to getting what she wanted…”

“You told her. You told her where you could find it didn’t you?” Mollie whipped out.

Luna exhaled sharply. “The foreigners who used to scour our land in the past in search of it referred to it as _Souffle de Vie_ \-- something they could sense in the air around them. Iridium is no one material Miss. It takes many forms..." 

“I don’t understand,” Mollie murmured. 

“It is both tangible and intangible depending on its element of source,” Luna explained inching closer until she stood directly in front of Mollie. "In water it takes on a liquid form, in fire it takes on a gaseous vapour and untouched it is a hard solid material -- silvery in colour." Her violet eyes quivered as she addressed Mollie. “There is an old myth – an ancient ballad that supposedly leads one to the primary source of pure crystallized iridium. It was a story created generations ago by former kings of the Marchesseault Regime. It’s source – the location of this pure iridium is said to be at that location.”

“Yes,” Mollie murmured. “I know that ballad.”

Luna blinked at her. 

Mollie felt her heart clench as several things hit her at once.

“It’s…it’s too coincidental not to be true.” Mollie had begun to talk to herself as she ignored the woman standing in front of her.

“There are no such thing as coincidences,” Luna murmured. 

She had remembered the story of what Gibbs had told her. Mollie had no doubt he was from the Marchesseault Regime himself. After all, he was a man born into nobility. He must have been a young boy when the Ophians overthrew their monarchial leader. The riots swept through many regions of the east, the Marchesseault regime included. Many sought refuge in the country towns where Mollie grew up -- _Riverton, Yvoire, Saignon, Ménéham._ They were safe and happy for many good years -- until the Lyons invaded. Some must have fled and brought with them what they believed to be iridium. And the river…the river of _Morte._ Maybe it was true. Maybe that was the forest that it flowed into? 

“What forms can it take on?” Mollie asked suddenly turning towards Luna who still remained rather motionless on the pathway.

Luna pursed her lips.

“Many. The water from that waterfall comes from the forest. It too is laced with trace concentrations of iridium. Those who have ventured on the search for its source have never returned Miss. Perhaps that is nature’s way of showing us that it is not meant to be sought. We must respect that.” Luna had a faraway look in her eyes for a moment. "However there was... one man. One man who claims to have ventured deep into the Forest of _Tennyson_ and survived bringing with him a pure source of iridium. 

"Really?" Mollie asked. "Who?" 

Luna hesitated. "I do not know. He was not one of our own but my son knew him well. It was many many years ago. He claims to have found a way to perfect its use for weaponry. However with what little he had _allegedly_ taken with him all those years ago... I highly doubt he accomplished what he claims to have done. Iridium's purpose is not for such things. We must take advantage of the things it gives us -- not of the things we can forcefully take from it." 

“So what do you use then?” Mollie interjected. “What makes the iridium you use so different from the traces the Lyons have acquired from your transactions? Why is their iridium sub par to yours?”

Luna smiled humourlessly. 

“You still don’t understand,” she said softly. 

Mollie remained still as Luna glided over to her pressing a soft hand against her belly. 

“Iridium sequesters whatever it takes in. Who’s to say the reverse is not true?” Luna brushed a hand gently over Mollie’s bump as she continued speaking. “The iridium that we have shared with others is the only form of it we are willing to trade. It's an alloyed form from the surface of the bedrock deep in the river on the edge of the Forest of Tennyson. It is mixed with traces of osmium, carbon, zinc, iron, and antimony. It is dangerous and incredibly difficult to separate these elements and purify the compound. People have tried for years and the results have been lethal. The concept of pure iridium is a fickle one. A figment of a simple-- a _corrupt_ mind.” Luna’s violet eyes bore into her own. “It is not _worth_ the effort to purify an alloyed form nor go searching for its pure form deep in the Forest of Tennyson. Us Ophians will not risk the lives of our people doing such a thing. And even so, why would we hand over something so dangerous to a regime like the Lyons? It would be foolhardy to do so."

“Wait,” Mollie whispered suddenly putting it together. “The iridium... is inside you? All of you?”

Luna grinned.

“That water we use for our crops, for our food, to quench our thirsts, the metal from the bedrock of the river is used for the foundations of our buildings. That is where its _true_ strength lies. Not in weaponry – not in pure form. Its purpose is better served in more fruitful avenues. But perhaps that is the simplistic mind of an Ophian speaking.”

“They want to use it as a weapon,” Mollie finished brushing her damp curls away from her forehead. “The Lyons.”

“They’re not the only ones,” Luna said gravely.

“What do you mean?” Mollie asked tentatively. 

“Have you heard of the Outbacks?” 

Mollie blinked. “The outbacks? The people who live out in the Wilderness?”

Luna nodded. 

“Of course,” Mollie shrugged. “It’s uninhabitable. Just arid land with no use.” Mollie was pretty sure it was just an expanse of wasteland. It was under no one’s rule. Venturing into the outbacks was a death sentence, that is why the Lyons never pursued prisoners who fled past the outskirts of their land. They wouldn’t last a week out there.

“No,” Luna said sharply. “Arid land indeed but uninhabitable it is not. The Outbacks have been steadily rising in numbers for years.”

“But they keep to themselves right?” Mollie asked nervously. “I mean there can’t possibly be enough of them to be a threat. They probably don’t even have enough resources to do anything.”

“That’s speculation Miss. No one knows what occurs in the Outbacks. And even if they did, you must never underestimate the capability of your enemies. Surely your mentor taught you that much.”

Mollie flinched. She dryly remembered Zen had told her that before.

“Do the Lyons know?”

“I’m sure of it,” Luna said solemnly. “But the Lyons are in a bit of a situation themselves these days.”

Mollie swallowed uncomfortably. That was an understatement. The internal family conflicts were eating away at the Lyons like a parasite to the body. Between the Insurgency threatening to overthrow the government and the Lyons insatiable desire for expansion – not to mention the hatred between the brothers... it really wasn’t looking good.

“How do you know that?” Mollie asked curiously. “How are you so up to date on what the Lyons are up to?”

Luna laughed.

“Give us a little more credit than that. My son resides within the Lyon regime. He told me all about you too Mollie Mayeson. I knew you’d be coming.”

Mollie froze.

“Who…what?”

It hit Mollie like a train. The dark hair…the pointed nose…the olive skin. How had she _not_ seen it before.

“Solanio,” she whispered.

She hadn’t paid nearly as much attention to him as she should have. But with a jolt she realized he had been there. Almost as much as she had been back in Questershire. He had always been lurking-- be it behind a pillar-- in a chair further down the dinner table … across the hall from her. 

Luna smiled. 

“He’s a spy?” Mollie couldn’t help but shriek. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Luna sniffed. “All the regimes do it.”

“But Rowan,” she trailed off. “Is…is he working with your people?”

Luna frowned.

“Please,” she said with an air of disdain. “That middle Lyon is as unscrupulous as it gets. He figured out Solanio was a spy. But rather than killing him like the Lyons do to all their prisoners he took advantage of the situation.”

She seemed angry at the entire ordeal and it was the first time Mollie had seen the woman show any emotion even remotely resembling anger. 

“I had told him it was too risky, " she muttered to herself. "He had gotten bold you see. Making trips to the Lyon regime and back. It was only a matter of time before they caught him,” she sneered. 

Mollie hesitated as she listened. She didn't know whether or not Luna was aware that the relationship between Solanio and Rowan was far from the relationship one had between a prisoner and his captor. Though to be fair -- maybe he had been in the exact same position as Mollie had been. She just hadn't cared to look hard enough.

“Rowan is not my favourite person either,” Mollie muttered. She had a newfound hatred for Rowan Lyon after he dragged her from the fortress and exchanged her like fresh cargo all those months ago in the North. “He exchanged something with the Insurgency when he kidnapped me. Do you know what it was?”

“That’s something you should discuss with Caius.”

Mollie hesitated before she asked her next question.

“What about your son?” Mollie challenged. 

“I thought you’d have figured it out by now my dear.” Her tone had gone soft – almost defeated. “There is no escaping once the Lyons sink their claws into you. You must know that by now.” Mollie stiffened at her dismal tone. “I have come to terms with that.”

"So that's it then?" Mollie asked angrily. "You won't fight back?"

Luna laughed humourlessly. 

"To retaliate against the Lyons over a spy would set a bad precedent as well as a poor taste in the mouths of other regimes. We can't afford that."

She suddenly came close to Mollie and the girl shivered as Luna took her hand and curled it around her own before placing it gingerly on her curved stomach. 

“Just as iridium comes in many forms so do the weapons we have to fight against our enemies.”

Abruptly, she dropped her hands from Mollie’s stomach and sauntered away into the night. Mollie watched her go, the long dark hair of the beautiful Ophian woman blowing softly behind her in the night breeze that carried with it a promise of a better tomorrow. 

***

It was the first time in months that Jelena had a smile on her face.

She was 8 weeks pregnant and her midwives had informed her that she was progressing exceedingly well, much farther than she had the last couple times she had attempted to conceive. 

She had been the first to arrive to court that morning after Hartley had called upon a prisoner to be interrogated. Dinner was in the grand hall tonight but Jelena knew she’d be able to stomach it today. She knew the King would be thrilled once she told him the news. 

Jelena had dolled herself up today, more so than usual and she idly twirled a lock of red hair as the large doors to the hall opened. 

Jelena stopped in her tracks when she saw the chair beside Micah’s empty. She was wondering if his little pet would be joining them. 

Jelena had forgotten the girls name.

Rowan and Micah walked in not long after -- their cloaks brushing the icy floor behind them as they took their place at the table, both of them striding right past Jelena as if she were a lone candelabra in the large room.

Rowan had a rather disinterested look on his face, and Micah looked as stony and as frigid as the snowstorm that howled outside the castle walls. 

Rowan was speaking quietly with a guard as he took his seat and Jelena hesitated when she made her way towards her own seat. Micah didn’t even blink.

It was an unusually late dinner and Jelena had already put Nina to bed hours ago. She hoped this was quick. She had more pressing matters to attend to.

Jelena looked up startled when the King entered, his tall figure casting a shadow in the room as he elegantly walked to his seat. 

They each stood as he lowered himself into his seat and with the slightest flick of his wrist, the guards were in motion, bringing plates and goblets to the table.

Jelena stiffened as she eyed the empty seat beside her.

 _Where was her husband?_

It was highly unusual for her to dine with her in-laws in the absence of her husband and it made Jelena feel extremely vulnerable.

Not a word was exchanged as the food was served and Jelena couldn’t help but let her eyes wander towards Micah who sat still and frozen beside Rowan, his face blank. He didn’t touch his plate, nor his goblet.

If Hartley suspected anything different, he didn’t show it. There were no guests tonight and Jelena found it hard to swallow as she managed to eat a couple forkfuls of the rich food in front of her.

When the plates were finally taken away, Micah’s untouched, and hers somewhat picked at, she noticed Hartley’s cold gaze was flickering between the two members of the table who sat directly across from one another. 

“You did not touch your wine.”

Hartley’s deep voice echoed across the room in spite of its softness and Jelena stiffened when all eyes turned towards her.

Hartley had turned his brown irises onto her own and she hesitated, staring at the full glass accusingly.

God where was James when she needed him. She wanted him here when she finally broke the news. She quickly realized that wasn’t going to happen. The King was far too observant.

His eyes flickered to Micah.

“You did not touch your food.”

Micah’s jaw was locked and Jelena eyed him nervously as the leather of his gloves stretched tautly against his fingers as he flexed them. 

Rowan frowned as he turned his gaze from Micah to his father.

“Father may I-“

“Hush Rowan.”

Hartley’s swift response was sharp and Jelena felt her blood run cold. 

“Micah, dear boy, the floor is yours.”

Before the prince could speak Hartley turned his gaze towards Jelena and she froze as he addressed her directly.

“It would be best if you run along,” he murmured. “I’m sure James will be more than eager to hear the good news.”

Jelena gulped as Hartley’s eyes flickered to the wine and back to hers.

She bowed weakly as she left the table, hating the way Hartley brushed his fingers over the long sceptre he carried around with him.

The door shut behind her with a clang and Jelena stood there for a moment. The sound of metal against wood echoed behind her and quickly she shuffled as fast as she could towards her quarters.

***

Jelena hesitated as she awaited for her husband. She hadn’t seen him return and she was nervous, her delicate arms breaking out in goosebumps. She had searched everywhere for him and her efforts went without reward.

It was highly unusual for him to be this absent. It struck a new chord within the woman and she felt an itching rebellious streak to find out what he was really up to.

She knew she shouldn’t ask, nor approach the princes without a good reason but Jelena was worried sick. She had made her way back to the dining room after a thorough search of the winter fortress.

When the door finally opened Jelena recoiled at the swiftness with which Rowan exited. Without wasting a second Jelena managed to make it to the entrance before his younger brother could make a dash for it as well.

“Prince Micah,” she called out before he could turn the corner.

He always strode in and out of court these days, exchanging few words and even fewer greetings. It was as if he was a shadow, only appearing when sought and cast upon. 

Jelena had seen the least of him she ever had and she wondered if it had anything to do with his concubine being gone. She had heard the girl had run off but Jelena doubted that was the case. 

Micah froze when she spoke. He looked vaguely irritated, almost angry and Jelena stuttered, her words congealing in her throat. 

He turned his green eyes on her and Jelena recoiled at the absolute iciness that radiated from them. She felt as if he were stabbing her with his stormy gaze and she parted her lips in surprise.

He continued to glare at her, his lips unmoving.

“I…I was looking for James,” she said barely above a whisper.

Jelena swore she saw a trickle of blood ooze down the side of his pale neck and quickly she snapped her eyes back to his. 

Her youngest brother in law had never, never looked at her like that. Not ever. And Jelena didn’t quite know what to make of it. She knew he had a lot on his plate these days, it must have been catching up with him. 

He didn’t respond and Jelena felt the blood drain from her face.

He didn’t blink, and it put Jelena very much on edge. 

“But I guess you haven’t seen him since dinner….” she squeaked.

Micah had always had the most vibrant irises. It was almost unnatural – the luminescence they gave off and Jelena noted the uniqueness of it the rare time his gaze did match her own. And his body language. Always so rigid and stiff. Jelena doubted he knew the meaning of what it meant to relax.

She trailed off and it was as if Micah had remembered where he was. Jelena saw a flicker of life re-appear in his eyes and she let out a silent breath as that familiar blankness took over his features.

“What?” he murmured. “I’m sorry if you’ll excuse me…”

With that he walked around her and down the hall, his thick navy cloak brushing past her as he turned the corner.

Jelena shivered at the strange interaction and continued forward. 

She was seeing less and less of James these days and she had slowly been counting down the days till she set foot on Southern soil again. 

There was no way she was giving birth to a child in these lands. It wasn’t up for discussion and Jelena had managed to put her foot down on that one. 

The walls of the winter fortress gleamed proudly as the sun shone through the sparse clouds that littered the grey sky. It hit the glassy walls of the fortress illuminating the vast corridors and expensive mosaics that lined the ceiling tiles from which large glass chandeliers hung casting crystal sparkles along the icy floor. It was a rare thing to see the sun in these lands and one could only appreciate the beauty of the north on days where it decided to reveal its hidden lustre. 

Jelena rubbed her little belly lovingly and smiled down at her little bump. 

“One day this will all be yours little one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a word dump mixed with a ton of plot this chapter. It’s been a while since the smut (yes I’m aware). But it’s coming ;)


	38. Strontium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie delves further into the past of her mentor. The Lyons have new plans on the horizon.

Mollie slowly made her way back to her sleeping quarters. The dusty glow of the late evening sky provided little illumination for her but Mollie didn’t mind. She had opted to take the long route around the waterfall which was separated several metres away from the training grounds. The soft torchlights brightened the pathway but Mollie knew it was a relatively safe compound. Not many people were up at this late hour. 

Mollie tucked her dark curls behind her ears as the sound of gruff exhales suddenly filled her ears. It would be odd to find someone training at this late hour. Confused but also rather curious, Mollie felt compelled to investigate and made her way towards the training ground. Moving silently like she was taught to do, she shuffled forward leaning against the back wall.

She paused when she saw the familiar overbearing frame of Zephyr Lyon chopping wood in the distance. There was always a large fire that was lit every night before dinner and Mollie knew the wood had to come from _somewhere_ …she just hadn’t really considered the process. She trembled as she watched him, the way his muscles flexed as he brought the sharp object down, the way his sweat trickled down his rippling biceps. The way his tanned skin stretched tautly against muscle accumulated over years of training. 

After another few minutes of chopping wood and throwing the pieces into the small pile beside him, Mollie watched him drag an arm across his forehead. In spite of the coolness of the evening, his exertion had raised his body temperature enough to leave him sweaty. 

“To your left.”

Mollie tensed. 

_Who was he talking to?_

He was facing away from her, the fire from the torches around them painting his entire figure golden as he swung the axe over his shoulder dragging the wooden plank behind him.

“That basket to your left.”

When Mollie looked up again she felt her stomach fall to the floor. He was looking at her over his shoulder – clearly unimpressed and his lips were turned downward – almost irritably. 

She turned to see a large wooden basket beside her and meekly – her face as red as a tomato she carried the thing toward him.

He was a good distance away and Mollie wondered how the hell he could have heard her from that far away. Was she _that_ loud?

He took the container from her swiftly and Mollie hesitated as she stood in front of him.

Zen was in nothing but his training pants and she shifted on her feet as he studiously put his materials away. His pectorals were defined and firm and glistening with sweat. Mollie swallowed uneasily as she tried to avert her gaze elsewhere. 

“Well don’t just stand there,” he muttered.

Mollie frowned. His manners really were something else.

“If you were more polite maybe I would be more willing to listen,” she retorted.

Zephyr whirled around to eye her with a particularly cruel sneer.

“Save the table side manners for the prince,” he snapped making Mollie cower at his absolute size as he loomed over her. 

With an irritated sigh he stalked past her towards his quarters on the opposite side of the training ground.

Mollie paused, her cheeks burning from his rudeness but she decided to ignore it. Zephyr had been moody since the first day she met him. Even after all these weeks she expected nothing less.

“You’re still up!”

Another chirpier voice piped up from behind Mollie and she turned around in time to see Joël bounding up to her.

“Ah look at you. You’ve got a belly now!”

Mollie stiffened. Joël seemed to have immediately picked up on the cold reception and his smile faltered.

“Oh…should I not have said anything?”

His brows creased and Mollie sighed as he looked sheepishly at her.

“What did the doctor say?” he asked quietly motioning for Mollie to take a seat next to him on the training bench.

Mollie sauntered over and plopped herself down beside him. Her legs ached at the action but she knew she had to get used to that happening. 

“I’m having twins.”

Mollie’s voice was blunt and hard and for a second Joël just gaped at her.

Mollie felt a surge of moisture fill her eyelids and she quickly blinked them away. Not fast enough apparently. 

“Oh Mollie,” Joël whispered putting a protective hand on her back. 

The girl was grateful for his friendship but internally Mollie was distraught. In the back of her mind something told Mollie it was wrong for her to be crying about this considering Araya’s position…

“This…this is good Mollie,” he murmured giving her a soft pat on her back. “This is a miracle. As much as it is a… um...curse.”

Mollie inhaled and exhaled slowly. God knows she cried enough tears to fill a river at this point.

“I’m s-so-sorry,” she managed in between breaths. “It just felt real…saying it...out loud.”

Joël nodded. Mollie could tell he was taken aback by the sudden onset of her emotions but he was being as supportive as he could.

She liked Joël. He had been the most non-judgmental person since she had arrived here and she also found him the most unbiased. He didn’t see her as anybody else but Mollie Mayeson. It was refreshing. 

“You know you don’t have to keep it,” Joël said kindly. “It is not a crime in these lands. It never should be one.”

Mollie sniffed wiping the few tears that escaped with her sleeve.

“I know,” she whispered. “But I want to. I…. need them as much as they need me.”

She swallowed thickly placing a hand gently on her belly.

“Did you tell Araya?”

Mollie frowned. The girl had avoided her like the plague and Mollie had done the same. She missed her terribly but at the same time she was angry with her too. She thought Araya of all people would understand her predicament.

“We’re not exactly on speaking terms,” Mollie muttered. 

Joël grimaced. 

“Yeah. I heard.”

They sat there for some time listening to the fire Zen had started earlier crinkle and crackle before them. It reminded Mollie of the little fireplace in the Questershire cottage across from the manor. The place where she had first gotten intimate with the winter prince.

“You’ve been training pretty hard. Zen said so.”

Mollie perked at the comment.

 _“Zen_ said so?” she clarified, unsure if she had heard correctly.

Joël chuckled.

“Yes. I don’t know if you know this but Zen has a pretty good track record as a mentor. I don’t think he has any intention of training anyone sub par.” He trailed off for a moment. “He’s a good guy you know? He just wants to do the right thing.”

Mollie sighed.

She _had_ heard that before.

“Talk to Araya Mollie,” Joël suggested softly. “I know she misses talking to you. I worry about her. She’s always going off about others controlling their emotions but she is the worst one. She’s a loose cannon.”

Mollie half smiled as he helped lift her up from the log where they had been seated. If she had suspected anything between Joël and Araya she could certainly confirm it now. They cared deeply for eachother.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Thanks Mollie,” he said with a smile. 

Mollie bid him goodbye as he followed the pathway Zen took earlier towards the male living quarters.

***

Zen didn’t bring up their little evening talk that had happened the other night and neither did she.

They continued their training with a lot more silence these days than Mollie was used to.

Due to her growing belly Zen had realized that it was necessary to cutback on the gruelling workouts she usually did before and after her lessons. It was just too risky.

As she finished her blockings late that afternoon she felt a sense of pride as she saw the thin layer of perspiration lining Zephyr’s forehead. She had never been able to make him break out in a sweat till now. Clearly she was doing something right.

“Almost ready for a weapon,” she muttered half-heartedly as she released her hair from the high ponytail she sported after a particularly tough session.

Zen scoffed.

“Maybe. Good job today. You…you’re getting there.”

Mollie felt her cheeks burn as they stood there in silence for some time. There was not much sound apart from the clashing of sword against sword coming from another room.

Zen suddenly straightened up and Mollie bit her lip as he sheathed the switchblade he had been practicing with earlier and slung it over his huge frame. He really was massive and Mollie sometimes liked to use his shadow as her personal shade from the glaring sun when it was particularly hot out.

“Don’t take my praise for proficiency,” he muttered. 

The tall blond Lyon had tanned again after spending hours training in the sun and Mollie had noticed the rays had turned his golden hair into a nice honey coloured tone.

“The winter prince will reach Ophian land in a little under three months I’m told,” he said severely. “That’s 90 days to get you somewhat ready to defend yourself against an attack.”

Putting the time into days hit Mollie hard and she sighed. It really wasn’t much time at all.

“Should I go again?” Mollie asked tentatively reaching for the fabric she usually laced around her fingers.

“No,” Zen said curtly his eyes flickering towards the armoury. “You’re done for today. Rest. On Friday we get you started with a weapon.”

Mollie paused as Zen began the walk towards the main building.

She quickly caught up with him easily matching his long strides with her long legs.

“Why Friday?” she questioned. It was only Tuesday after all.

Zen looked at her.

“Because, I have to go pick up materials with Caden and the others,” he muttered. “It’s in the main city – not far from the port where we arrived. Our compound is isolated from the main city. We’re responsible for bringing resources from there to here. The food and water doesn’t just appear you know.”

Mollie ignored his sarcasm. 

“It takes that long to get resources?”

Mollie could tell Zen was getting irritated with her questions as well as how easily she was able to match his pace. 

“Not normally. But my father and Caleb haven’t returned from _Peréal_ yet. It’s been three weeks. They _should_ be back by now. They bring lots of resources back with them but whatever is holding them up there is significant enough for them to be gone for so long without touching base. So…we have to take matters into our own hands.”

“What if they arrive while you’re gone?”

“Someone has to stay with Isla anyway,” he muttered eyeing Mollie as if that resolved the problem.

Mollie grimaced.

“I’m not staying with her,” Mollie muttered.

Zephyr rolled his eyes. 

They had made it back to the main building and Mollie hadn’t let down even as Zephyr dropped off his materials in the storage room and busied himself by pouring a glass of water from the canteen.

“I’d rather sleep _outside,”_ Mollie continued, flinching at the hard stare Zen had shot at her. “I won’t do it.”

“She’s a little crazy but she’s not dangerous,” Zen sighed. “If it makes you feel any better we’ll keep her in the main area only. That way you won’t have to worry about her venturing out and walking the training grounds.”

“I stayed with a woman like her all my life,” Mollie muttered. “I didn’t travel all the way here to do the exact same thing.”

Zen’s expression faltered and Mollie felt embarrassment creep into her features. 

“I’m coming,” she growled. “Whether you like it or not.”

Without waiting for a response Mollie left the main building. She probably shouldn’t have shouted at him in that way but Mollie knew he didn’t care. She just hoped Zen would allow her this one shred of freedom. 

Before Mollie could turn up towards her quarters to pack for the trip she caught site of another figure walking down the staircase towards the main floor.

Mollie could hold a grudge. For a long time too, but she cared about Joël and she wanted to make things right between herself and Araya. Muttering under breath she swallowed her pride and greeted the girl.

“Hey.”

Araya’s lips twitched but Mollie could feel the air around her was significantly less hostile today.

“Hey,” she said somewhat less enthusiastically.

Mollie wouldn’t push it. That was as far she went and with a nod she made a beeline for her room.

“Whoa that’s it?” Araya said with surprise blocking her way with a fluid step in front of Mollie. 

“Not even an apology? That’s cold Mollie.”

Mollie looked at her angrily.

“I should be asking you for an apology,” she muttered trying unsuccessfully to step around the girl.

“Dramatics dramatics,” Araya mused pulling Mollie’s arm forward, although gently on the stairs, so Mollie could re-orient herself. “I was on my way to spar before I saw you. Maybe you’d care to join me and Caden?”

Mollie looked conflicted.

“More of an observer,” Araya added with a half smile. “Joël told me you two talked last night.”

Mollie sighed.

“You’re doing the right thing Mollie.”

“Let’s just move past it,” Mollie mumbled brushing a hand against her forehead. She really didn’t want to talk about it. Not now.

“Fine with me. See you in a few.”

***

Caden swore as he fumbled backwards, his sword usurped from his grip as Araya managed to disarm him with her quick movements.

Julien and Joël were lingering a distance away. They were speaking quietly to each other.

“See Mollie?” Araya said with a grin as Caden cursed and pushed himself to his feet. “That’s what happens when you step out of your circle. You accept vulnerability and fall flat on your ass.”

“That was a lucky shot,” Caden shot back.

“What did I tell you about lucky shots?” Araya barked giving Caden a sharp kick to the shin. Mollie jumped at the sudden action as Caden stumbled back for the second time. “Just because you have a dagger now doesn’t make you a professional. Lucky shots don’t exist in battle you dunce.”

Mollie half smiled as she continued barking orders at her student. Perhaps with Zen as her mentor she didn’t have it quite as bad as she first thought.

“Four laps around the falls,” Araya muttered. Caden threw his sword to the side and was panting heavily at this point. He had a couple welts around his knuckles from where Araya had tapped him hard with edge of her blade. She looked over at him now with a glare. “If you don’t take off now I’ll make it eight.”

With a groan the brown haired boy pushed himself to his feet and took off for the pathway towards the falls.

Araya looked over at her as Mollie absentmindedly pressed at her belly. 

“How has your training been going?”

Mollie looked up.

“Fine. I’m not able to do as much anymore as I was a couple weeks ago.”

Araya nodded.

“Good. I was worried Zen would be pushing a little too hard. Your situation is unique – I’m glad to see he understands it.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say he understands it,” Mollie whipped out turning her angry gaze away from Araya. “He’s just being careful because he has to be. I don’t think he cares all that much.”

Mollie crossed her arms angrily as her expression soured. It had suddenly gone quiet and Mollie looked up in surprise.

Jöel’s face had gone stiff and Julien seemed to purposefully be avoiding eye contact with everybody. Araya hesitated as she pushed back her short bob. 

_Had her comment been that bad?_

“Did…did I say something?” 

Mollie was genuinely confused and she didn’t like the awkward glances she was getting from Joël either. It was putting her on edge.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge Mollie,” Araya said with a frown.

Quick as a wink Araya had her arm in hers and was dragging her outside of the training ground and away from the prying eyes of the other group members.

They made their way to the canteen across from the infirmary and carefully Mollie slid onto the stone bench as Araya mirrored her movements across from her. 

Araya hesitated before she spoke and Mollie noticed she seemed awfully reluctant to get her words across.

“Zen…wasn’t always like that Mollie. He’s been through shit that will never go away. He copes with it in his own way.”

Mollie was stunned. She hadn’t known. How would she have known?

“What…what happened?”

Araya frowned.

“He was in love. That’s what happened.”

Mollie struggled to picture Zen and love in the same sentence but she supposed it could explain his bitterness and caustic demeanour.

“What happened to her?” she questioned. “She left him?”

“No,” Araya said darkly. “She…she died Moll. A couple years ago now.”

Mollie suddenly felt sick and she dropped her gaze.

“Geneviève,” Araya said softly. “That was her name. She was an incredible fighter Mollie,” Araya said with a sad grin. “Could give Zen a run for his money and that’s saying a lot.”

Araya had gotten up briefly to bring them some water and when she returned, she pushed a glass across the table for Mollie.

“She and Zen were around the same age when we found her. The Lyons had acquired her village at the time and were forcing people into industrial cities. She refused to go --had managed to run away before the forced migration was put into place.”

Mollie swallowed uneasily. She knew first-hand how horrible that had been for herself – the move from Riverton to Chartery. She could imagine just how terrible that must have been for the girl. She must have been pretty street smart to have escaped. Araya also seemed pretty fond of her. 

“Caius had found her – said he’d never seen a more well to do nine year old. She and Zen got along well from the start…they trained together, fought together…hell they did everything together.”

Mollie had gone silent as she listened to Arayalynn speak.

“She was deadly with a bow and arrow,” Araya said with a sly smile. “Was her weapon.”

“How did she…”

Mollie trailed off but she knew Araya understood her question.

“A mission,” she said softly. “Viv and Zen were sent out to retrieve some prisoners from that Ice Castle of Death in _Icedalar._ Some of our own members.”

Her tone had darkened and Mollie realized even speaking about it was hard for her.

“Viv was experienced and the mission wasn’t supposed to be dangerous – but of course you have to be prepared for anything…” Araya had begun to fiddle with the edge of her glass – her pinky finger doing nervous circles around the rim. “It’s like they were on to us from the start.”

“You were there?” Mollie asked quietly. 

She nodded mutely. 

“It was the wolf I think,” she murmured. “That’s the only thing I can think of that would have left such a... mess. She was mangled -- almost beyond recognition…but it was her.”

Mollie felt her stomach lurch forward. She could remember several occasions in the not so distant past where that easily could have been her.

“Zen witnessed the whole thing,” she said struggling to hold her emotions. “He was only seventeen at the time. It was his screams that alerted us. By the time we got there it was… too late. It was the first time that I had seen Micah Lyon in the flesh. He was nineteen at the time...around four years ago.”

Mollie shivered under her stony gaze.

“He did nothing. He just stood there --like a statue-- as his brothers laughed.” Mollie felt sick to her stomach as Araya told her the story. “Zen was there…holding what was left of her in his arms.” Araya’s gaze had gone glassy and Mollie could feel her stomach tighten. She didn’t want to know – she didn’t want to hear any more. “I don’t know what was worse,” Araya continued. “Knowing she was still alive or hearing Zen’s ear splitting screams-- crying -- _begging_ for someone to help her. There was so much blood – around the walls, the pillars, the floor. So many pieces of _her_ scattered everywhere-”

“Stop,” Mollie whispered. “Please stop.”

“We dragged him away of course,” Araya murmured. "It was a narrow escape...for all of us." Her eyes suddenly met Mollie’s and Mollie could see for the first time the trauma that Araya so expertly concealed on display before her.

“You know what was weird about it?” Araya asked her eyes still holding that glassy faraway look. “The way the winter prince watched us as we struggled to gather all her limbs together – like he was watching a film or analysing some piece of ancient artwork. He didn’t say or do anything…not while Geneviève’s screams split the air as she lay a mangled limbless mess in the middle of the courtyard.”

“It was only when she was gasping for air as we struggled to drag Zen away…after the prince's brothers had left did Micah look at us before he unsheathed his dagger and slit her throat.”

_“Stop.”_

Araya seemed to blink and she suddenly came back to the present as Mollie dry heaved across from her.

“Are you alright?” she asked warily as Mollie blinked the blurriness away from her vision and ran a hand across her feverish forehead. 

Mollie didn’t answer immediately and she heard Araya sigh.

“You asked.”

“I know,” Mollie said forcefully wishing Araya could have at least spared her some of the details. 

She breathed in and out slowly as Araya looked across the clearing where in the distance she could see Zen and Caden arguing over something. She saw Zen differently now. Araya was right. Seeing your lover ripped apart to pieces before your eyes is not something anyone would get over…ever. And yet she had to admit – he was coping fairly well. She sure as hell would never have been able to cope with something that gruesome. She had misjudged him. 

“Why?” she asked suddenly her eyes still on the blond Lyon in the distance. “Why does he blame Micah?”

Araya was wary as she looked at Mollie.

“Because he took her away from him.”

Mollie bit her lip.

“Maybe he was putting her out of her misery,” she murmured. She remembered in that moment what Micah had told her that day in Questershire. The day he slaughtered those prisoners in the earthy basement of the manor. 

“Whatever his motives were. He finished her off Mollie. And he made a hell of a show of it.”

Araya’s voice was curt and biting as Mollie looked away. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

She quickly recovered when she noticed Joël, Caden, Julien and Zephyr striding towards them – packs on their back and swords slung loosely on their waists. They were wearing all black this time – not the preferred white attire of the Ophians.

Zen looked at Mollie briefly before addressing his sister.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Araya said promptly. She turned to Mollie as if to tell her something but Zen cut her off promptly.

“Mollie’s coming with us. She made it clear she has no desire to stay behind.” His blue eyes flickered over to hers. There was something alive within them – something primal and bright. It made her skin tingle.

Mollie suddenly felt a wave of guilt fill her as she looked at Zephyr. His blond hair was swept across his forehead in light honey toned waves as he blinked them out of his blue eyes. They were trained on her now and she quickly averted her gaze. She didn’t want to give anything away by standing awkward and ashamed in front of him. As far as he knew – Mollie had no idea of his past.

“Great,” Araya chirped shooting Mollie an irritated glare. Maybe she wasn’t doing the best job at hiding her emotions. “The sooner we leave the better. Who’s staying behind with Isla?”

“Pauline has already volunteered to stay,” Joël chimed in. “She prepared a pack for you too Mollie,” he added slinging a pack towards her.

Mollie took the pack gratefully and slung it around her back.

The sun was beginning to set and Mollie realized they were going to be traveling on foot through the night. She supposed it made more sense. It was too hot during the day for any sort of long distance hiking in this place. It just wasn’t feasible.

“Good,” Zen said checking his watch. “Let’s leave now. I want us across that river before midnight.” He paused as the others began to make their way down the path that would lead them away from the compound towards the main river.

“You’ll want to change before we go,” he murmured. “Something black in colour and comfortable. White stands out too much in the forest at night.”

Mollie nodded wordlessly.

She couldn’t help but notice the bracelet he wore on his wrist just below his watch.

_Viv. ___

It stood out like a sore thumb to her now and she quickly flitted through her pack as a distraction.

Mollie could feel his gaze on her for an unusually long time before he went to follow the others and she finally exhaled. She just hoped he didn’t suspect anything.

***

Jelena laughed as her daughter collapsed in the snow her mousy brown hair sprinkled with dots of white from the light layer of flurries that fell from the sky.

 _“Viens ici Nina,”_ she called out as her daughter scampered up and down the vast landscape of _Château de Glace._

Jelena watched her sadly as she jumped from one indent in the snow to the other. She was lonely, Jelena could tell. She needed a companion to get her through these tough times.

_“Maman, viens jouer avec moi!”_

Jelena sighed tiredly. She had to be careful. Even running for short distances in her condition could be dangerous. 

_“Non Nina. Tu sais que je ne ferai pas ça.”_

The girl pouted, her heavy brown coat dusted in a light layer of snow. 

Jelena was content today. It had been the first time in months that James and her had been able to have a brief escape together. He was thrilled she was pregnant and Jelena had a good feeling she would bear him a son. This pregnancy felt different. Finally, she would give Hartley the grandson- the heir-- he always wanted and she and James would inherit the Lyon estate. Jelena did not care too much for the wealth herself – she wanted it for her children. She feared for Nina as she grew up in a world that would treat her cruelly due to her gender. She wanted Nina to be different, more independent than Jelena herself had been. She didn’t want her daughter to end up in the same position that she had…

“Princess Jelena,” the soft murmur from behind pulled Jelena from her thoughts and she turned to see one of her ladies in waiting standing behind her. The woman seemed flustered.

_“Il est temps pour Nina de prendre des cours d’anglais.”_

Jelena had to double the English lessons for her daughter after her grandfather had voiced his concerns over her aptitude in English. Nina detested it, but it was important. 

_“Non!”_ Nina cried out turning to run away from her mother farther into the snow covered courtyard. 

Jelena sighed. She felt like a single mother more often now with how often her husband travelled. 

_“Master James est ici princesse,”_ her lady in waiting murmured as Jelena looked up sharply. 

“He’s here?”

This came as a shock to Jelena who hadn’t expected his return for another week. 

_“Où est-il?”_ she asked sharply while keeping an eye on her daughter who had started jumping from snow pile to snow pile once again.

_“Salle de réunion.”_

Jelena nodded already adjusting her coat as she stepped into the atrium.

_“Regardez Nina pour moi.”_

The young maid nodded as Jelena swept past her towards the main hall. 

The trail of her ember coloured gown swept behind her as she glided down the corridors of the winter fortress. the chill still sending a trickle down her spine in spite of the many layers she wore. 

In her haste she opened the door to the meeting room abruptly to a sight that was all too familiar to her.

“James!” she cried out rushing towards her husband who’s left cheek was awash with fresh blood.

She barely registered the blade Micah Lyon was holding against his throat as James chuckled at his youngest brother. 

It was just the two of them in the room and Jelena began to tremble as she attempted to see to James who pushed her away immediately. Jelena knew of the dislike between Micah and James. It wasn’t new for them to brandish a dagger every now and then... but she never thought any of them would physically act upon those urges – and in such a violent manner at that.

“You’re a traitor to the monarchy,” Micah whipped out ignoring Jelena’s presence completely. “The penalty for that is death.”

Jelena felt her heart jump to her throat and she scrambled closer in an effort to protect her husband. 

_What was he talking about?_

Micah had an unsettlingly high number of kills below his belt and his proficiency was not unknown to the people. His title as the winter prince alluded more to his personality than it did to his birth town. He was cold, pale, and threatening in the most sinister of ways. 

“Stop – don’t.” Jelena was choking as she watched Micah’s ice blue blade dig deeper into her husbands neck. _“Please_ – I’m sure this can be discussed.”

Jelena was beside herself – her breathing erratic and her vision blurring with tears. Micah didn’t even flinch-- his cold blank stare boring into James as if it were only the two of them in the room. Even though he was slightly shorter than her husband, he still radiated a danger that was equally as threatening as the one posed by her husbands gargantuan frame. She shouldn’t be this stressed – especially in her condition. 

“What is going on here?”

Rowan’s voice echoed through the room and Jelena registered the sharp click of the door closing behind her as he took in the scene before him.

“He’s going to kill him!” Jelena sobbed as Rowan walked coolly past her.

Rowan looked at her.

“Stop your dramatics woman,” he sneered looking distastefully at Jelena. “No one is killing anyone here.”

Jelena struggled to regain her breathing as Rowan looked between the two of them with a frown.

“Lower your sword Micah,” he said sharply before turning his gaze to James. “We both know you’re not going to inflict further harm onto him.”

Micah’s fingers flexed around the blade but Jelena could see it was taking every fibre of his being not to plunge his blade deep into James’ throat. The look on his face was one of pure hatred and she could see the smirk on James’ lips as the blood seeped further down his face to accumulate in the indent at the corner of his lips. Apparently – her husband knew it too.

 _“Micah.”_ Rowan said more sharply. He didn’t intervene, he only spoke from a distance his stance cool and authoritarian. 

Micah stepped back sheathing his sword as Rowan turned his glower towards James.

“Clean this mess up,” he muttered at James who still had that cynical smile on his face. “Before father gives us a real reason to pull out our swords.”

“I’ll take the risk.” 

Micah’s frigid tone sent a chill down Jelena’s spine and she looked fearfully at Rowan who frowned at the comment.

“Of course you would you selfish brat,” Rowan said curtly. “But we will be the ones to suffer the consequences and I will _not_ have that happen.”

“Oh you’re no fun Rowan,” James muttered dusting himself off as if what had just occurred was nothing but a harmless squabble. “Micah wants to prod the beast. Let him.”

Jelena froze as Rowan stepped up to James so his nose brushed his elder brothers.

“This is not your domain James. Don’t be so foolish.”

Micah was staring at his brothers, still and unmoving-- his expression lapsing back into something unreadable. Jelena didn’t miss how his fingers never left his sword despite being sheathed and covered on his hip. 

“For now,” James said in a tone as equally gritty as Rowans. Smoothing his tousled hair down with a quick brush of his hand James left the room. Jelena dried her tears quickly in a hasty attempt to follow her husband. The blood from his cheek had left several splatters against the stony floor and before Jelena could leave Rowan had walked slowly towards her so she was alone and cornered under his intimidating expression.

“You will not mention this to anyone,” he said menacingly his dark eyes glinting. Jelena recoiled even further nodding meekly. He stepped out of her away promptly and she scuttled away as the sharp sound of her name from the corridor made her hasten even further. She could hear her husband curse in irritation as gave up waiting for her and stalked down the corridor away from the meeting room.

However Jelena had another idea…one the concubine had given her several months ago. 

Rowan had not closed the door fully after he had chased her out and Jelena decided on doing something she never would have done before. Something that could get her into heaps of trouble.

Gingerly she pressed herself against the door and listened to Rowan’s quiet musings from within the room.

 _“Leave it be Micah,”_ Rowan muttered. _“You’ve waited this long.”_

Micah cursed and Jelena recoiled at the sound of blade digging into wood echoing across the room.

_“I can’t wait any longer Rowan. He’s pushing it.”_

The deadness in Micah’s tone made a chill go down Jelena’s spine.

There was a snort from Rowan and Mollie listened as footsteps echoed across the room.

 _“This would never have happened had you stuck to the plan in the first place.”_

Rowan’s tone suddenly spat malice and Jelena pressed herself even closer.

 _“Are you threatened Rowan?”_ Micah asked rather shrewdly. _“Did you think you’re the only one capable of twisting the rules to your liking?”_

 _“Father won’t allow it,”_ Rowan spat hatefully.

There was a humourless chuckle from Micah.

_“Now I think we both know that’s not true.”_

There was a long silence that followed and Jelena tensed.

Jelena felt sick. She felt as if the two brothers were plotting something terrible. Something that would put her husband at risk.

_Should she tell James?_

_“How could you be so bold Micah? Do you know who she is? Did you know?”_

_“Of course not,”_ Micah responded. The malice dripped from his voice and Jelena shivered just hearing his tone. 

_“Father must be alerted.”_

_“Not yet.”_

Micah’s curt tone was clipped and unyielding. _“Not until I’m absolutely certain do we tell him.”_

_“How much more certainty do you want? She knew about the riddle Micah. You told me yourself.”_

Jelena recoiled at Rowans sharpness. She breathed in and out slowly as Micah’s soft husky murmur permeated the silence once again. 

_“I depart in a couple weeks. Peréal is not far from the borders of Obsidian Land. I am due to pay Monsieur Marchesseault a visit. That is where I will confirm what I already suspect.”_

_“Fix this Micah. Or God forbid I’ll be dragging you by shackles to court and you can take Alexandre Marchesseault’s place.”_

Jelena scuttled to the opposite corridor as she heard footsteps approach the door.

Micah laughed and she watched from her perched position as he brushed his dark locks back and turned to look at his brother who now lingered in the doorway Jelena had been pressed against only seconds before.

“Keep dreaming Rowan.”

With a smirk he left down the corridor leading towards the east wing – away from Jelena. The red headed woman shivered as a white wolf brushed past her its blue eyes cold and unforgiving as it quickened its pace to bound proudly beside its master. 

Jelena bit her lip as she hid behind the pillar until a second set of footsteps left the room and echoed briefly before lapsing back into silence. The ache in her back from bending in that position for so long reminded her of her condition and she struggled with her options.

She knew then she had heard information she certainly should not have known. But should she wait? Waiting would entail telling James that she eavesdropped and she worried about the repercussions of admitting such an act to him.

Perhaps she should wait. Yes. That would be best. Wait until she came up with something better to relay this information back to her husband. 

Whatever the other Lyons had planned did not strike Jelena as something they would be able to accomplish soon. Plus, she figured it would be another whole situation trying to explain her findings to James who would certainly not be pleased to find out she had been snooping.

Swallowing the thick bile in her throat she shuffled away quietly before anybody else could witness what she had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to call this chapter lol. Stuff happens. There's a lot to dissect here but I think it gives a good idea of personality and seeps into the psyche of some rather secondary characters.


	39. Yttrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie makes the trip to Anubis for the first time. The meeting reveals new truths about the state of unrest across several regimes. Zephyr unravels.

So this was difficult. More difficult than Mollie had originally thought.

The walk was more of a tread through the underbrush and it was taking a toll on Mollie and her fragile body.

She blinked as the first drops of rainfall hit her forehead. Stumbling on the thick underbrush for what seemed like the tenth time in less than an hour, she struggled to match her pace with the others who had ventured far ahead of her.

The brush ridden landscape didn’t last long with the route they were taking and before Mollie knew it, the group were back on familiar desert ground. The sound of quick running water filled her ears and Mollie immediately knew they were back to the place they had arrived at several months ago. She squinted, seeing a familiar thick forest across from the river in the distance and heard the soft sound of moving carriages and chatter filtering through the air. It must have been close to midnight at this hour and Mollie was struggling to stay upright on her feet. She could barely keep her eyes open but she knew she had to persevere.

“Araya,” Zen said sharply turning towards his sister. “You and Joël need to pick up the food parcels at the main gate. They won’t grant all of us access into the city at once. Not altogether and certainly not at this hour.”

Araya nodded at her brother as they dropped their packs on the banks of the sandy riverbank and discussed their plan of action.

Mollie jumped in surprise when she heard her name barked loudly – over the sound of the rushing water in front of them.

“Mollie. Listen to me,” Zen repeated his lips turned into a scowl. “Caden and Julien are picking up the weapons shipment at the main port. You and I on the other hand have some business to attend to in the city.”

Mollie struggled to blink away her tiredness as Araya carefully handed Mollie her pack that the girl had carried for Mollie for most of the trip.

“But I was supposed to be on weapon pickup with Araya,” she replied as Zen began to pull the rope attached to the boat that would lead them across the river towards the main city. She hoped he hadn’t picked up on the slight slurring of her words. She was utterly exhausted.

He didn’t look at her as he responded.

“Change of plans,” he muttered. “You’re coming with me.”

She didn’t fight it. Not at this late hour and she fell silent as Zen gingerly lifted her into the boat before Caden and Julien shuffled in quickly after. The four of them fit snug and Mollie blinked blearily in the darkness as Joël swiftly untied the rope letting them bob in the water for a moment before the current began to take them across. It didn’t take long for Joël and Araya to become two small figures in the distance as the current carried them along. It was unnervingly still as they crossed the river water – the only disturbance being the gliding motions of chestnut wood against inky black liquid. The midnight air was crisp and cool and Mollie shivered as she felt sharp movements from within her belly. It always happened at night – rousing her from sleep at the most inconvenient at times and she squeezed her muscles tightly hoping to alleviate the discomfort somehow.

No one spoke the entire journey across and Mollie was proud that she had managed to keep herself alert and awake throughout the short traverse across the river. It took a tremendous amount of effort but Mollie had done it. She had remembered what Luna had told her about this place. The tainted waters beneath them. She didn’t want to think about how many bodies lay at the bottom of the river…

Zephyr’s blond head was the only glimpse of colour Mollie could spot in the eerie darkness and in record time he was propelling the boat forward till it reached the sandy banks of the shore.

He helped her out of the boat carefully and Mollie looked back in confusion as Julien and Caden stayed put in the boat, waiting for the two of them to exit.

As Zephyr easily manoeuvred himself out of the boat she saw him nod once to Caden who let the rope drop and allowed the boat to catch the current back to the opposite shore where the other two members were waiting.

“Why are they both going back?” she whispered as Zen gripped her arm tightly in his fingers.

“The boat needs to be evenly balanced,” he explained lowly taking Mollie’s pack from her and slinging it on top of his. “Either in twos or fours. Any irregularity in the transport will create instability in the system. That’s why they’re going back.”

Mollie fell silent as he pulled her gently along with him towards the main city.

“Here,” he muttered handing over her yellow cloak as he swiped a black one of his own from his pack. “It’ll only get colder as the night goes on.”

It was not a far walk to the main gate and when Mollie arrived beside the tall Lyon she noticed the men at the gate look at each other once before allowing passage to herself and Zephyr. There was light rain as they walked through the iron gates into the city and Mollie gratefully pulled her hood up. The guards looked twice at Mollie’s belly as she passed by them and she didn’t miss how Zephyr’s grip tightened on her the second they crossed the threshold into the heart of _Anubis._

It was surprisingly busy for a city at midnight and Mollie was surprised to see locals sitting in bars through the window, play-fighting with swords in public training grounds, and some just walking side by side down the cobbled streets. Mollie and Zephyr stood out – Zen in his black cloak and Mollie in her yellow as the locals wore their traditional white and stared at them as they passed them on the street. She was no longer tired at this point. She was simply on edge as Zen walked cooly beside her, seemingly unruffled by the stares and attention they were receiving.

“Why is everyone…” Mollie trailed off as she saw a couple holding a baby in their arms as they exited a restaurant towards the end of the street. They looked...normal. As if it was not out of the ordinary to be leaving a building at midnight without a care in the world.

“Out and about?” Zen finished for her as he pressed his hand to the small of her back leading the way. “There’s no curfew here,” he explained. “It’s not like back home where everyone is scheduled to be home by 10 pm. People are free to travel around the city whenever and wherever they please. Just as long as they don’t break any rules or do anything to disturb the peace.”

The concept baffled Mollie and she realized the freedoms these people had here where tenfold what they were permitted to do back home in Lyon territory.

“There’s no status cards?” she asked eyeing how easily people were able to enter and leave buildings. There were no government patrols, no presence of any sort of elite guard. It was shocking to her.

“Nope,” Zen said. “They did away with all of that stuff after their official monarchy fell.”

Mollie was so lost in thought, she almost lost her footing when a chirpy voice called out from a small little pub around the corner. Mollie squinted to see a lanky local in a short white dress waving them over, her glossy hair pulled back into a tight bun to display her pixie like features.

Mollie hesitated as Zen urged her forward towards the girl who was jumping on her toes at this point.

“Zen!” she cried out throwing her arms around him. Mollie watched the exchange coldly as the girl retracted giving him a dazzling smile.

“Evening Leyla,” he said with a lazy smile.

Her eyes flickered to Mollie and the girl reddened as the local turned her eyes back to Zen – a wicked glint to her eye.

“You did _not_ you naughty boy,” she chastised giving him a playful smack on the shoulder. He was so tall she ended up swiping his chest. “You were always such a _tease_ but you gave in eventually didn’t you?”

To Mollie’s embarrassment Zen forced a laugh. It was uncharacteristic and Mollie figured he was just going along with it.

“Guilty as charged,” he said with a smirk. “That being said it would be a sin to leave me and my... baby mother out in this foul weather now wouldn’t it?”

She faltered after this and Mollie could tell she had gotten herself into a bit of a trap with his quick response.

“You know I can’t Zenny,” she said with a nervous glance behind her. “It may not seem like it but the city is on high alert.”

Zephyr sighed pulling his hood down so his damp blond hair hung loosely across his forehead.

“Actually it _does_ seem like it. Your city guards aren’t very subtle.”

She rolled her eyes and Mollie wondered what kind of past relationship they had. Obviously they knew each other somehow.

“The spare rooms are full Zen,” she said lowly stealing another glance behind her again. “There are spies crawling all over our lands. We aren’t taking any chances. Not even with you and your people.”

Zen pursed his lips for a second and Mollie watched the exchange in silence. She didn’t know how they were going to get out of this one.

“That’s a shame,” he murmured. He seemed to purposefully be rattling his pockets and Mollie heard the unmistakeable sound of thick metal coins bouncing against one another.

The girl straightened up immediately and Mollie could sense her interest had been piqued.

“However..." she sniffed swiping her hands against her apron. "I do believe the attic is empty. It’s also hidden away from the other rooms so no will come knocking or searching during the night.”

“The others are coming too Leyla,” he said softly. Mollie couldn’t quite tell if he was warning her or reminding her, but regardless Mollie saw a sliver of apprehension cross her features.

“They’re here too you know,” she murmured leaning in close as Zen tilted his head down to hear her. From far away it almost looked like they were exchanging a kiss but Mollie could hear their soft whispered from her position beside them. “The Marchesseaults. They left at dawn this morning.”

“I know,” Zen said softly. “That’s why I came.”

Leyla’s brows furrowed and Mollie could see the first sign of irritation creep into her features.

“My pub isn’t a bed and breakfast or a meeting room Lyon,” she hissed.

“It is tonight,” Zen whispered back harshly. The familiar Zephyr she knew was back on display and even she shivered at his harshness.

The girl recoiled at his fierceness but she seemed unable to come up with another excuse.

“How many rooms do you need?” she muttered.

“Just... two more. I’ll take the attic.”

She grumbled something under her breath but Mollie relaxed when she saw that the girl didn’t look nearly as upset or apprehensive anymore. She just looked mildly ticked off – almost inconvenienced.

She squinted at Mollie again and Mollie looked down averting her gaze. She was sizing her up again.

“So this is new…” the girl said eyeing Mollie and Zephyr with curiosity.

“The rooms Leyla,” Zephyr said sharply.

She rolled her eyes dramatically and opened the door to let them both in.

The warm ambiance was inviting as Mollie walked in beside Zephyr. Soft pub music filtered through the air and it was full enough in the small restaurant filled with booths that Zephyr and herself didn’t stand out too much.

“What was that?” she asked him seconds before he pulled her quickly into a booth near the far corner of the pub.

“What?” Zen asked unperturbed. “I was getting us a place to stay...unless you wanted to spend the night outside?”

She ignored the comment and flipped her hood down letting her damp curls fall around her shoulders.

“Hungry?”

Mollie looked up to see his blue eyes trained on hers. She blushed and looked away.

“It’s going for 1 am,” she responded eyeing the clock at the front of the pub near the bar.

“So?” he scoffed. “Might as well enjoy something that isn’t potatoes and duck meat-- even if it is only for one night.”

She sighed and picked up a menu. The food was foreign and unfamiliar to her and she looked up bewildered as Zen lazily took the menu from her fingers and scanned it. He rolled his eyes at her as he called a waitress over.

The waitress smiled at Zen, a sultry expression on her face as she looked between the two of them.

Mollie found it unbelievably strange that they were getting served in a restaurant at 1 am but she knew the customs were different in this regime. She would have to start getting used to these differences.

“What can I get you handsome?”

The waitress frowned and looked at Mollie as if she were a threat in her path. Mollie pursed her lips and kept her eyes trained on the menu.

“We’ll get two stews,” he said tonelessly handing her the menus. “Thanks.”

“You want the taters with that?"

_“No,”_ they both shouted at the same time making the waitress stumble backwards.

Mollie couldn’t look at potatoes again. It was all they had eaten while on the vessel from Icedalar to Ophian territory. She’d rather starve.

The waitress finished writing in her notepad before giving Zephyr another sensual stare. “Alrighty. I’ll be right back with your orders.”

Zephyr ignored her reaching for a wine bottle on the empty table next to them and drinking straight out of it.

Mollie frowned at him.

“I’d offer,” he said rather lazily. “But you’re pregnant.”

“Please don’t,” Mollie retorted sliding her hands backwards against the cheap wooden table. It looked like red wine from here and she shuddered just thinking about it. It reminded her of Micah. The way his pink lips stained red after taking a sip from his goblet. The way it felt when he swished it from his mouth to her…the sharp bitter taste…

But Micah would never do such a thing. She could just imagine the expression that would cross his face had he witnessed someone drinking wine straight from the bottle. The thought made her smile internally.

“What are you smirking about?”

Zephyr was watching her, his eyes narrowed as he took another swig from the bottle.

“Aren’t we supposed to be having a meeting?” she said ignoring his question. “How are you supposed to negotiate while drunk?”

“I’m six fucking foot five Mollie,” Zephyr said with a frown. “It would be physically impossible for me to get drunk from a half bottle of red wine.”

She ignored him as a local couple in the booth behind Zen turned to look at them.

Mollie felt heat flood her face as they shook their heads in annoyance and turned back around.

The bell from the pub door tinkled as two men walked in and Mollie perched on the edge of her seat as they handed the woman in the front a small piece of parchment. They wore tunics similar to what the Insurgency had in black but the colour they sported was a dark red.

“Zen,” she whispered straightening up in her seat. “They’re here. I think that’s them.”

“Probably,” Zen said not bothering to turn around. “Don’t worry. They’ll come to us.”

He seemed so unruffled…so apathetic to the entire situation and Mollie just sighed through it. She didn’t have much say in this anyway. Zen had made that pretty clear from day one.

On cue the two men’s eyes scanned the pub and within seconds their eyes locked with Mollie and they began to walk towards their table.

Mollie stiffened as they came to a slow halt beside their cramped booth.

_“Monsieur Lyon,”_ the one said turning his gaze towards Zen. The men stood in front of them briefly and Mollie took a good look at them. They were wealthy. She could tell by their fancy tunics and the ostentatious badges that gleamed against their chests. But instead of a Lyon insignia, there was a different symbol. A circle? A planet? Mollie’s wasn’t quite sure.

“Sit,” Zen muttered sliding out of the opposite booth to squeeze in beside Mollie.

The guards looked at each other briefly before pursing their lips and sitting down. They didn’t seem fond of the man in front of them and Mollie didn’t blame them. Zen was not the most likeable.

“Bold of you to make the trip out here prince.”

Zephyr grimaced at the term as the second guard regarded the two of them coldly.

“Perhaps we should speak in French. Someone might overhear.”

Zen scoffed at the comment.

“Won’t make much of a difference. The Ophians know the language too well at this point.”

The two guards looked at each other again before falling silent. They watched Zephyr quietly, judgment written all over their faces as he finished off the wine bottle cleanly before tossing it back to the table across from them.

Before another word could be spoken the waitress re-appeared with two steaming bowls of stew in her hands.

“Anything else –“

“We’re good,” Zen said waving her off.

The hot stew wafted in Mollie’s face and she shivered as the guard directly across from her matched her gaze.

His eyebrows furrowed as he regarded her – as if trying to match a name to a face or a face to a name. But he said nothing more.

“They found him,” the one guard said quietly inching forward on the table. Mollie hadn’t yet touched her stew but Zephyr had dug in already bringing a spoonful to his lips. “Quinn Marchesseault.” Zephyr said nothing. Instead he dipped his spoon back into his stew and continued to eat. “We've been tipped off that the Lyons have it prince. That middle one got his hands on it somehow and the Lyons are going to use it to invade us all. We have to act _now.”_

Zephyr cursed flinging his spoon into the stew so the hot liquid seeped over the bowl and splattered onto the counter.

“Are you fucking with me?” Zen barked. His fists had curled on the table and the guards before him tensed.

“They’ve had him prisoner for months now,” the guard said. “It was only a matter of time before he buckled and told them how to weaponize it.”

Mollie felt her blood run cold. 

“Fuck,” Zen repeated.

“Our King has requested that our forces merge for the time being. A safety precaution in case the Lyons _do_ decide to initiate. Now that they have it, nothing is stopping them from invading.”

“When we wanted to ally with you in the past you all retreated to your castles and ignored the plights of others,” Zen growled. He was absolutely fuming. “Why don’t you ask your Ophian friends for help?” Zen spat pushing his still full bowl away with a clatter. “Oh wait. They fucked you over too didn’t they?”

The second guard – the one across from Mollie – sighed heavily.

“We have good reason to believe it was the... Ophians who handed the iridium to the Lyons.” The guards exchanged a look with eachother after this.

“Something doesn’t make sense,” Zephyr growled. “Why would the Lyons agree to a negotiation with the Ophians if the Ophians have _already_ given them what they need? Why would they still be offering _us_ refuge on their lands?”

“Think about it prince,” the guard sneered. “The Ophians are trading with every fucking regime at this point – the Rineauxs, the Lyons, the rebels. I’d bet my gold coins they’re conducting deals with the fucking Outbacks too. They help out because they have something to gain. It has nothing to do with loyalty.”

Mollie felt her stomach roll when she heard this. Zen was right. Something didn’t make sense.

“What did you exchange with Rowan for me that day in _Icedalar?”_ she interjected. She wondered if it played some role in the Lyons acquisition of iridium.

The guards looked taken aback that Mollie was participating in the discussion but Zen just twitched his lip at her.

“He wanted an Ophian map,” Zephyr said lightly. “It was an odd request, but at the time you were our top priority and that was his demand.”

Mollie stilled when she heard this.

_An Ophian map?_

“But he could get that anywhere. There’s maps all over the place.”

“No Mollie,” Zephyr said bitingly. “They’re not. They’re actually incredibly hard to come by. But I would have thought at this point in time the Lyons would have _already_ had access to one.”

“Maybe they were checking?”

“For what?” Zephyr muttered.

“Look,” the guard interjected from across the table. “It doesn’t matter what has happened in the past. What matters is the fate of our futures. The youngest Lyon is set to make a stop at _Peréal_ following his negotiation with the Ophians.”

“What?” Zen snarled.

“Whatever he is coming for, we are obligated to welcome him as a diplomat regardless. That is customary.”

“I want to be there.”

Zen’s voice was rough and blunt after this and the guards regarded him stonily.

“No. There will be no bloodshed on our grounds. We already told your father this. Though I must say he was a hell of a lot more persuasive than _you.”_

Zen laughed mockingly.

“I’m sure he was."

“We’re done here,” the guard said in a clipped tone.

Mollie had gone silent, watching the tense interaction. She didn’t like how often the second guards eyes kept flickering over to her. She had _not_ been imagining it. It was almost like he was trying to place her.

“We’ll take our leave prince,” the guard said rather derisively as he stood up.

“Fuck off,” Zen grumbled.

_“Mademoiselle,”_ the second guard said with a bow directed more at Mollie. She looked over at Zen who was already calling the waitress over for another bottle of wine. That was enough of an indication for Mollie that they needed to leave. He had already embarrassed her enough that night and Mollie could only suck it up for so long.

“We’re leaving,” she muttered.

He grumbled at her and she shoved him hard to the side. She probably hurt herself more than she did him but he followed through shuffling out of the booth.

Mollie could tell this meeting had really soured Zen’s mood and she hesitated as he angrily tossed a bag of coins on to the table and stalked towards the back of the pub.

She curled her lip as he grabbed the bottle of wine he had ordered from the bar before stomping his way upstairs towards the attic.

***

An old rickety attic with a leaking roof was certainly not what Mollie was expecting.

The walls were peeling, the floorboards were chipped and scratched, and the bed was small and lumpy.

Mollie wasn’t one to complain but she cringed as she felt the splatter of rainfall from the poorly patched roof trickle down the back of her neck as she rested against the small corduroy armchair in the far corner of the room.

She was grateful for the shower and food they were given as well as the hospitality provided by the somewhat reluctant pub owner. She seemed nice enough. But still. This place was rough.

Mollie groaned as she rubbed her swollen belly. The pain was not subsiding this time around and she was trying her best to swallow the soreness that was erupting within her lower abdomen.

She hoped a cold shower and some time alone would serve Zen some good before he returned to the claustrophobic room they were sharing. She didn’t think she’d be able to take any more of his moodiness. He was worse than her and her hormones were raging through her.

Mollie tensed as the door opened and Zen appeared, his hair damp from the shower and a loose black tunic and slacks on his toned frame.

He said nothing as he rummaged through his pack before sauntering to perch on the edge of the bed.

He had something in his fingers a fabric of some sort. Something silky and feminine. She had an inkling of who it belonged to.

It must have been close to two or three in the morning at that point but not one of them made any sort of move to suggest they were ready for bed.

Mollie cleared her throat quietly as Zen reclined lightly on the bed stretching out so his body was splayed out on the left side of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

It was probably best that Mollie just kept her mouth shut. But the guilt was gnawing at her from the inside. Picking away at her soft interior.

“For what?”

His tone was still hard – but softened by the huskiness of exhaustion. He had no intention of picking a fight tonight. She wasn't sure if it was the meeting that was the cause for his bleakness...or the weight of other memories that were bringing him down. Rather than play it safe, Mollie went with her gut. 

“For what happened to her.”

Zephyr’s eyes flickered to hers and she felt her face heat at his abruptness.

There was nothing but the soft patter of rain on the roof and the drip of water leaking onto the floorboards from the ceiling. It was no place for a prince. No place for royalty. But in some strange sense, Zen seemed to embrace it. She saw how his face twisted in anger when those guards bestowed the title onto him. Mollie never really thought much of it. But as she considered it she realized he was entitled to so much – as much as his cousins-- yet – he would rather stay here, in this rickety shack. She heard the money that lined his pockets. He easily could have gotten them to stay at one of those fancy hotels at the heart of the city. He could afford it. But he decided _not_ to. It fascinated Mollie as much as it confused her.

“Are you in pain?”

Mollie sighed and looked away. She had thought she had been doing a good job of hiding it.

“I’ll…I’ll manage,” she stuttered as another pull from her belly sent her gripping the armrests tightly.

“Lie down,” he said sharply rising from the bed and walking towards her.

“I’ll be okay Zen,” she murmured placing a hand on her stomach. “They tend to move a lot at this hour. It’s not unusual, trust me.”

He seemed concerned but Mollie decided she might as well lie on the bed anyway to pacify him.

She eased her way onto the bed, lying gently on her back. She spotted the fabric he had been toying with in his hands and ever so gently Mollie lifted it up.

He watched her from beside the bed as she handed it to him pressing the purple fabric into his hands.

“Araya told me what happened,” she murmured looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

“Yeah,” Zen grunted taking the fabric from her and slipping it into his pocket. “She can’t keep her fucking mouth shut about anything.”

Mollie recoiled but his harshness wasn’t directed at her. She knew this.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed beside her, his weight bringing her slightly closer to him as the iron rods squealed under their combined weights.

“She sounded lovely,” Mollie said softly.

Zephyr was quiet for some time after this and Mollie assumed that he simply wouldn’t answer. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

“Yeah,” he said after a long moment brushing his golden locks back. “Yeah she was. She was something…”

Mollie chewed her lip as she pressed softly at her belly.

“It’s okay to miss her you know.” she said quietly. She didn’t look at him as she spoke. She was worried his expression would flounder her into silence.

“What makes you think I don’t?” he murmured.

“You bottle things up,” Mollie said slowly turning to look at him. “And most people who bottle things up end up breaking apart later. It helps to talk about things before that happens.”

Zen was staring at her silently.

“I’m just quoting your sister,” Mollie admitted after some time.

“I was going to say,” Zen said rather dryly. “That sounded like the usual heap of bullshit she would say.”

Mollie couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips as he closed his eyes briefly and brought his arms behind his head. His lip had curled slightly up to the side and Mollie hesitated as she saw his muscles straining against the tight tunic. She got a smile from him. It was certainly a start.

Mollie cringed as a particularly hard kick from her stomach sent her lurching upwards on the bed.

Zen was up in an instant, the concern etched across his features.

“I knew it. You’re _not_ alright. You’re such a terrible liar Mollie,” he said tiredly as she bit her lip.

“It’s not painful as much as it is…uncomfortable,” she admitted brushing her thick curls backwards. “I’m lucky to get even a couple of hours of sleep on most nights,” she said.

Zen was silent for a long while, his eyes glued to the thick quilt covering the lumpy mattress.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Zen asked quietly.

She shrugged. She didn’t really know why she didn’t tell him. Perhaps she wanted him to know that she could handle it. Everything he threw at her on top of her pregnancy, the training, the meetings…

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered shifting a little more on the bed as the skin of her stomach stretched taut against the movement inside.

Zen hesitated as he noticed the movement from within her stomach.

“You should have said something,” he repeated monotonously.

“So you could take it easy on me?” she challenged lightly in an attempt to brighten the mood.

In a surprisingly gentle gesture he leaned over and touched the bottom of her chin lightly and half smiled at her.

“Never.”

She found herself smiling timidly back and in that moment she felt something warm in her belly. It was a feeling that pinkened her cheeks and made a certain heat build in the soft tender space between her thighs. Her nipples felt tender as they rubbed against the tight fabric of her shirt and her core throbbed. It was suddenly sweltering in the room and Mollie tried her best to calm her erratic breathing.

With the way Zephyr was looking at her Mollie couldn’t quite tell what was going through his mind. Most of the time he was rather easy to read, but tonight, he was indecipherable.

“It’s hard to forget,” he whispered. He was thumbing the bracelet he wore on his wrist and Mollie knew what he was alluding to. “Everytime I’m having a good time. Everytime I laugh, I smile, I do something to make me feel warm and good and whole…. I’m reminded of her -her bleeding body in my arms.” His voice was so soft and languid Mollie had to inch even closer just to hear what he was saying. “In those moments I think to myself, how can I possibly be smiling, laughing, enjoying myself when she isn’t _here?_ What gives me the right to feel all of those emotions running through me while she lies cold and emotionless – never to smile, never to laugh… never to _live_ again.”

Mollie listened quietly as he spoke. For the first time she didn’t interrupt him.

“It doesn’t feel right,” he mumbled brushing his hair back.

Mollie watched as he pitifully reached for the wine bottle he had grabbed before they came upstairs. It had fallen somewhere on the bedside table where he had tossed his cloak earlier.

His fingers were trembling as he tried to open the bottle and gingerly Mollie reached her fingers over his so they stilled.

“Talk. Don’t drink,” she said softly. She attempted to peel his fingers from the top of the glass bottle but he all but pulled her fingers off.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbled.

“Zen stop,” she muttered pulling it free from his nimble grasp.

His body was so close to hers – Mollie could feel the heat radiating off of it and it made her breathing pick up. It seemed he had felt it too because seconds later he released the bottle from his grip, letting it fall with a _crash_ onto the floor before crushing his lips to hers. The shock of it registered only after and Mollie shuddered as his hands tightened around her waist and began to pull her closer to him. 

His hot mouth sealed over hers and she groaned into it as he kissed her deeply. 

_No. No this is wrong. This is so wrong._

His arms snaked up her torso as he dipped his hot tongue along her bottom lip before sliding it wetly against her own. Mollie pulled back trying to ignore the warmth of his body against hers and the feel of his heated skin on her feverish one. 

“Zen,” she said warningly, her husky tone tremoring with unsuppressed passion.

It would be so easy for her to lose herself. To succumb to the gnawing aching feeling of emptiness that had consumed her. 

But she _shouldn’t._

Mollie was repulsed by the warmth that spread between her legs as the tall blond Lyon began trailing kisses down her neck. He didn’t seem to hear the hesitation in her voice. There was something animalistic about him. Something rough and feral that excited and terrified Mollie all at once.

“Zen,” she said again as he inched his palms across her bulging stomach to wrap around her waist.

“Just give in to it,” he whispered tugging her earlobe softly with his teeth.

Mollie exhaled sharply as he gently pushed her down onto the bed. The bed springs creaked beneath them as he shifted on top of her freeing himself of the tight tunic he was usually sporting. His golden skin glowed under the flickering candlelight – so different from the pale icy luminescence of the winter prince and much more untamed. His muscles rippled in the warm room, years and years of training leaving his body toned and muscular in places Mollie never thought possible. She swallowed uneasily as her eyes lingered over his body. 

Mollie realized quickly that Zen was not a patient lover and she moaned sharply as he ripped her pants and shirt in record speed. She writhed as he held her firmly, greedily drinking in her bare body.

“Wait,” she gasped as he slid his hands down her body till it wrapped around her waist. 

Carefully he turned her around so she was kneeling on the bed and facing the headboard -- her stomach bulging in front of her.

Mollie barely managed another word before Zen’s hands shot out to grab her hips making her legs buckle beneath her hypersensitive body. 

Mollie felt something hot and blunt press against her from behind and she moaned in yearning as he pushed forward -- further and further and _further._

Mollie cried out as he slammed full force into her from behind. The bed creaked at their combined weight as he sheathed himself to the hilt through her slick warmth. Mollie clawed her fingers against his as he held her hips steady. She was desperate for any sort of balance and eager to brace herself against something - _anything_ \- as he slowly began to move behind her.

His head dropped to her shoulder as he groaned against her neck his golden hair brushing her cheek as he planted slow breathless kisses against her neck. He was so _thick,_ so incredibly thick and Mollie whimpered as he forced her to yield to his hardness – tightening his grip on her hips as he locked her into position.

With a force she hadn’t anticipated he pulled out and then slammed back in – pounding into her from behind. Mollie couldn’t register anything – not the water dripping down on her from the ceiling, nor the rattling iron rods of the creaking bed, nor the cries from her lips. Only the sensations of pleasure simmering through her body were enough to alert Mollie that she was in fact _present._

“Just... like... that,” he groaned from behind. Had it not been for his hot heavy breaths on the back of her neck Mollie would have felt as if she were suffocating. His cock pummelled through her like a wildfire through a blazing forest – burning her lungs and dousing her body in a slick coat of gasoline. Her grip on the iron headboard stretched the skin of her knuckles taut along her fist and each tingle that racked her body felt like a flame ignited against her skin and she whined loudly as he inched deeper into her. 

He leaned over her, his warm palms squeezing the full flesh of her breasts from behind her as Mollie cried out. She writhed as he adjusted his angle just the slightest bit pounding down into her – hitting that sweet spot that sent Mollie reeling into the sheets.

Mollie gasped, a ragged desperate breath, as if she had been underwater instead of beneath the blond rebel prince pounding into her from behind. Mollie released her grip on the headboard onto the sheets and clawed at the thin material, her fingers pulling the ragged sheet out from its tucked formation beneath the mattress as Zephyr grinded his body against hers. 

He had her facedown on the sheets, her swollen belly swiping against the bare sheetless mattress as she dragged her nails down the mattress. 

“I bet you’ve never been fucked like this,” he muttered. “Been…wanting…to…do this…since I saw you that day on…that fucking ship.”

“Stop...talking,” Mollie moaned as his hand slithered up her back to curl around her neck. Quickly he yanked her thick curls to the side so he could sink his teeth gently into her neck.

“Ohh. _Ohh,”_ Mollie moaned as he continued his hot thrusts from behind. He got a good few thrusts in before Mollie went completely rigid beneath him. Like a vice against her waist, she tightened before exploding hot and wet against his cock with a hoarse throaty groan, squeezing and shuddering through each rough steady thrust from behind. 

“Fuck,” he snarled before pulling all the way out and sinking all the way in with a guttural moan. Mollie felt rather than heard him cum as she felt a familiar thick wetness trickle down her thighs. 

“Fuck Mollie,” he muttered planting wet kisses against the back of her neck. “That was…that was _hot._ That was so fucking hot.”

Mollie couldn’t respond. Hell, she couldn’t even move. But the pain…the pain in her belly was gone – replaced instead with a warm simmering feeling that flowed from her belly to her toes. 

Her hair was a tangled curly mess atop of her head, the tendrils sticking to her sweaty forehead. Groggily she pushed them away from her forehead as Zephyr pulled himself free from her quivering cunt before slowly lifting her up so she lay backwards with her head on the pillow. 

Mollie was spent. Panting and exhausted as she lay on her back staring at the old peeling ceiling with a single painting above the bed. It was of a red barn in a field of wheat. Even the painting looked aged with its yellow browning tint. Mollie lay there sprawled on her back, her belly heaving with each breath she took as she waited patiently for some feeling to return to her limbs.

Zephyr pressed his forehead against her shoulder as he collapsed down next to her. He was careful not to put any weight on her front and she sighed as he exhaled with a groan beside her. His breath tickled her ear and she brought a hand upwards to rest on his tanned glistening back. His skin was so bronzed and sun kissed and healthy. She hesitated at first before gently laying her palm against the warm heated flesh. She had to be. When she made love to the winter prince that was a spot she was forbidden to touch -- his back that bore the scars of his childhood. 

His blond hair brushed her cheek as he lay on his stomach beside her, his fingers inching up to thumb the underside of her breast. 

“That’s impressive,” Mollie murmured breathlessly as she brushed her fingers down his shoulder to his bulging bicep. 

She squeezed the heated flesh lightly as he blinked an eye open beside her.

“What’s impressive?”

“Your muscles,” she said tracing the pronounced ridges on his forearms. 

He laughed lightly his smile half hidden by the pillow. 

“It definitely helps with your intimidation tactic. You must scare your enemies off before they even try to engage with you.”

He went quiet after this and Mollie hesitated.

She resumed her breaths as he continued sliding the pads of his fingers beneath her breasts. 

“Do I intimidate you?”

Mollie stilled for a moment, stopping her own circular motions against his skin.

“What?”

“If we had never met and you saw me for the first time,” he said slowly. “Would I have intimidated you?”

Mollie didn’t know why his question sent her heart racing so quickly but she managed to scramble together an answer before the silence went on for too long.

“I…No,” Mollie said quietly. “No you wouldn’t have.”

He scoffed and Mollie turned to look at him.

“That’s too bad,” he murmured. “Maybe you should have run away when you first saw me.”

Mollie paused as he closed his eyes beside her once again.

She shifted her weight slightly, feeling the wetness smear messily against her inner thighs. She couldn’t bother to clean herself up at this point though, she was far too exhausted. 

“There’s not many places to run when you’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean.”

“That’s not the first time you saw me,” he hummed against the pillow.

Mollie paused to stare at him, her expression one of utter bewilderment.

“You don’t remember?” he said quietly. “Back in _Icedalar_ …on the main floor powder room.”

Mollie stilled. 

_Of course. Of course she remembered...the footprints...the knuckles on the glass window....the shadow..._

“That was... you?” she muttered.

Before Zephyr could respond she took the pillow he had been lying on and slapped it harshly against his cheek.

“The _fuck,”_ he muttered sitting up immediately. “The hell is wrong with you woman?”

“I was in the bathtub,” she growled at him. “I was _naked,_ what the hell were you thinking?”

“For Gods sake,” he hissed grabbing the pillow from her hands. “I needed to get a look at you and that was the only way possible. We didn’t know if you were really there…we barely saw you. What the fuck did the prince do anyway? Keep you in a metal cage with a blanket?”

“You scared the _hell_ out of me,” she muttered crossing her arms over her chest. She ignored his comment. 

Zephyr scoffed wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. 

“I wasn’t paying much attention at the time…” his voice had become a low throaty growl and in an instant he was peeling Mollie’s arms away from her chest. His eyes zeroed in on her chest his gaze darkening. “But fuck… I wish had been.”

Mollie blushed and looked away. His unabashedness was overwhelming and Mollie found it rare. Micah spoke little, preferring to relay his feelings with his hands…his tongue…his actions. But Zephyr…he was not afraid to voice his feelings. If anything, he was almost too frank about it.

“Shut up,” she mumbled dragging the sheets up over her naked body. 

“I’m being serious,” he said halting her movements for a second time. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry – not angry – smiling – unsmiling – pregnant…not pregnant.”

Mollie laughed humourlessly.

“Maybe I _should_ have let you drink that bottle of wine,” she grumbled. “I’d love to see you when you’re not intentionally spilling your secrets.”

He half smiled at her before he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Mollie looked down tracing the defined ridges of his hip bone, following the triangular bone further past his hips over the bulge concealed by the sheets strewn across their lower bodies. 

"You have soft hands," he mumbled after a brief silence. 

Mollie frowned. 

"Not anymore," she murmured sliding her palms together. The still healing blisters on her hands from all the training had not yet formed into hard callous. It would take some time before that happened. Araya had told her that. 

"Nah. You do. Bread and butter hands. That's what my mother would call it." 

Mollie sighed softly and picked at a thread on the sheet as Zen shuffled closer to her. 

"It's different," he continued musing. His voice was slightly muffled by the pillow he was strewn across but Mollie could hear him clear enough. "Most of the females I train have tough skin. They're familiar with combat. They've learned how to deal with it from a young age." 

Mollie couldn't tell where Zen was going with his musings but she stayed silent regardless. 

"You're a primary citizen with soft hands, a mysterious history, and the only girl to have ever caught the eye of the fearsome winter prince. 

"I'm a baker," Mollie said flatly as if that explained everything. "That's why my hands are soft. It has nothing to do with my upbringing. I worked hard just like all of the other primary citizens." 

Zen laughed lightly and Mollie could feel a scowl form on her lips. How could he just change from being so sultry and gentle to being a complete asshole in a span of less than two minutes? 

"You were running a bakery business that was established way before you took it over. That doesn't really sound like primary citizen upbringing to me." 

Mollie opened her mouth to respond and closed it quickly. With the way he phrased it... it really _didn't_ sound all that bad. But still. How dare he? 

"It was my _grandparents_ bakery," she said between clenched teeth. "The only thing they left me after they died. 

"Primary citizens aren't afforded luxuries like family heirlooms Mollie Mayeson," Zen said casually. "Your grandparents were lying to you. You're no primary citizen." 

The proof was on her status card...the card that Micah Lyon had tossed into the fire the first time he saw her. 

Zen turned over fully so his face was inches from her own. His breath fanned her lips and Mollie resisted the urge to press her lips against his for a second time. The effect he had on her was foreign. She didn't like it. 

"A lot of citizens from the Ophian Empire, Rineaux Regime and the Marchesseault Regime fled after the fall of the Ophian Empire," Zephyr explained, voice soft and lulling. "Much of them were nobles who were forced to hide their lineage from the Lyon regime after arrival. They settled in those country villages on the southern tip of the Lyon empire." 

Mollie went quiet when she heard this. 

"But what does that matter?" she asked forcing her gaze away from his lips and into his sea-blue eyes. "We were given a new status when we were forced out of Riverton into Chartery anyway." 

Zen shrugged. 

"Maybe it doesn't. But it certainly explains a lot. Caius believes that stuff is important. Blood means a lot to monarchial empires Mollie."

He was right. Mollie knew this. This had been ingrained in her head since she was a small child. 

"It means a lot...even for me..."

Zen trailed off after this and Mollie knew what he was alluding to. The mood had taken on a somewhat dismal turn. She was beginning to understand Zen better after all these months of training, and rather than return to their previous state of gloominess Mollie attempted to lighten it --even just a little bit. 

_"Prince Zephyr,"_ she murmured bringing her eyes back to his lips and tilting her head in a mockery of respect.

She smiled when she saw him roll his eyes and collapse back down into the pillows. 

"I think we're a little past the formalities at this point," he said with a half smile. 

Mollie blushed. He had a point. They were both as naked as could be. 

She could feel the tiredness setting into her bones now and she relaxed as Zen gently pushed her back down so her head fit snugly into the crook of his neck. 

“Sleep,” he murmured, his fair locks brushing her cheek as his warmth enveloped her beneath the sheets. He didn’t have to tell her twice. 

"Pleasant dreams _votre majesté,"_ she murmured blindly reaching out to grab his knuckles the way the royals did in court. 

"Stop." Mollie could hear the smile in his voice from above her as he caught her wrist and tucked it beneath the covers. 

For the first time in several months, Mollie slept deeply without a single nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whewwww. That was a long time coming ;)


	40. Zirconium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is set in motion. Mollie learns about the mysterious Alexandre Marchesseault. Secrets unfold.

“God _damn_ it.”

Caden pounded his fist onto the cold hard table in anger. 

The single piece of cloth fabric lay in front of them on the table. A single word written in elegant calligraphy in the centre, the ink sinking deep into the fibrous material. 

**_Wait._ **

The handkerchief had embedded in the bottom right hand corner a familiar signet Mollie had seen. A crimson coloured planet delicately embroided into the material. The official emblem of the _Marchesseault Regime._

It was Caius’ writing, Mollie had deduced that the minute the pub girl had delivered the message to them that morning. 

Jöel had gone quiet – his expression lapsing into something of concern. 

After the first night here, Zen and Araya had left to attend to other matters -- including picking up their mother who was still stationed at the main compound outside _Anubis._ They’d been gone for close to ten days now and the lack of activity was taking a toll on the other three members who were forced to spend much of their time inside the dingy dark pub. 

Jöel had deemed it too dangerous to venture outside – not since Zen had informed him of their meeting with the _Peréal_ guards over a week ago. To maintain her skills Mollie had continued her training with Jöel during Zen’s absence. It hadn’t been all that long, but still Jöel’s style was different. He was a reticent fighter who took a more defensive approach than Mollie was used to. She was familiar with Zen’s aggressive approach. 

It was another dreary rainy day as Caden, Mollie and Jöel sat inside the booth of the dingy pub, the handkerchief sitting between the three of them like a silent accusatory elephant in the room.

There was no way to send a message to Araya and Zen – to inform them that Caius wanted them to wait. Whatever it was – he wanted them far away from the negotiation – the exact opposite of what Zen wanted. 

The message was short and clear.

They were to wait for as long as they were ordered to. 

Mollie regarded the other members of the Insurgency closely as they sat across from her…their expressions forlorn.

“Can I get you anything else?” 

They all shook their heads as the girl looked at them with a frown before sauntering away.

“So this is it then?” Caden muttered looking angrily at the shuddering windowpanes. “We sit here doing nothing indefinitely.”

“An order is an order Caden,” Jöel said calmly taking a sip from his mug. “Caius must know we left the compound. That’s the only reason he would have risked sending this message.”

“How do we know Araya and Zen haven’t decided to take the route from here to _Peréal_ after picking up Isla?”

Jöel shook his head before Caden could finish his question. 

They bantered on for a while and Mollie found herself zoning out. She was still navigating through her twisted feelings as she idly picked at the scrambled eggs on her plate. She couldn’t keep her mind off of what had happened over a week ago. To Mollie, she could still feel the sensations in her belly as if it had occurred mere hours ago.

She shouldn’t have done it. She shouldn’t have gave in. Hell she was pregnant with the child— _children_ \-- of the enemy of the man she fucked. Even so…she couldn’t help but feel _guilty._ She couldn’t understand how it could feel so right…yet so terribly wrong at the same time.

The owner of the pub suddenly began stalking towards them and Mollie could see the relief that was spread across her features.

“They’re back,” she said quietly bending over to address Jöel directly. “They’re here.”

 _“Finally,”_ Jöel huffed just as two familiar figures entered the pub.

Araya was the first to run towards them her arms outstretched as they wrapped around Jöel tightly. 

Zephyr followed her slowly. Mollie noticed that he seemed to be moving a bit slower than normal and before she could approach him she felt Araya’s tight embrace around her.

“Good to see _you,”_ she muttered flickering her damp auburn bob behind her ears.

Mollie smiled returning the hug. She noticed that the sword resting casually against the petite girls waist was stained red. She had seen that before many times but it still had the same effect on Mollie each time she saw it. 

It must have been an eventful couple of days for the siblings.

Zen said nothing as the others greeted him formally. Mollie hesitated before slowly returning to her seat.

He seemed pale and fatigued. Mollie wanted to ask him if he was alright but she had a feeling this would be something Zephyr would respond negatively to. If there was anything he hated more than his cousins – it was the illusion of a weak appearance.

So she followed the lead of the others and remained silent as he stalked over – his blue eyes flickering straight for the handkerchief in the middle of the table.

“Took you long enough,” Caden grumbled as he gave Zephyr a rough pat on the back.

“We had some… unexpected company,” Zen responded wanly looking at his sister.

“Marchesseault spies,” Araya said with frown. “They set up a unit around us.”

“Not just them,” Zen grumbled picking up the handkerchief in his fingers and squeezing it in his fist. 

Araya sighed heavily and Mollie could see the fierce tension between the two of them.

“I know what I saw,” Zen snapped as his sister shot him a familiar look of disdain.

“What did you see?” Jöel said immediately ignoring the nudge from Araya who had squeezed into the booth beside him.

“Zephyr thinks he saw an Outback,” Araya said as if it were the most ludicrous thing in the world.

Caden laughed while Jöel tensed. 

“I didn’t _think_ I saw it Araya,” he said bitingly. “I _saw_ one. He was watching us the moment we left the gates of the city.”

“That’s not possible Zen,” Caden said an air of humour still in his tone. “They’re out eating raw meat and circling a wood fire out in the wilderness.”

“There’s nothing humorous about this situation,” Zephyr snapped making the table silent once again. “The Lyons have iridium, the Ophian Empire is infiltrated. Caius isn’t letting us in on _shit_ and you’re all here making fucking jokes?”

“Zephyr calm down,” Jöel said – his deep comforting tone challenging the husky growl from the man in front of them. “People are looking.”

Mollie could see Zen was in a mood and whatever the others were saying to calm him down was having little effect on him.

“To hell with Caius,” he spat flinging the cloth to the table with a huff after reading the single four letter word on the cloth. “We leave for _Peréal_... _today.”_

“Zephyr,” Araya whispered harshly. He flung her arm off before he stalked upstairs, his footsteps making the ceiling shake with his angry steps.

“Let him go,” Jöel sighed placing a hand gingerly on Araya’s shoulder. Mollie could see the pain flit across her features as she slowly sunk back in her seat. Zen had barely looked at Mollie when he walked in. Mollie figured he was just upset…but had he forgotten what had happened between the two of them so quickly?

“I know,” she murmured giving a Jöel a faint smile. “I’m exhausted too. As dramatic as my brother can be…he is right about something,” she said lifting her fiery brown eyes to meet Mollie’s across the table. “We can’t stay here. Not with what we encountered on our way back to the compound. The Marchesseault’s are mobilizing. Those two guards the first night here were just observers. They’ve sent in the rest of their guard for us. I’m sure of it.”

“I knew it. Those fucking backstabbers,” Caden muttered.

“Wait,” Joël said sharply. “Did the _Peréal_ guards say anything about Caius and Caleb?”

“No,” Araya muttered reaching for Jöel’s mug of black coffee and taking a long swig from it. “But Caius and Caleb won’t budge until they come to an agreement in _Peréal_.”

“By the sounds of it negotiation isn’t going over too well.”

Araya nodded mutely. 

“Great,” Mollie muttered tucking her thick hair behind her ears. “When do we leave?”

“Today,” Jöel said. “We should take the route up the river.”

“That’s too conspicuous,” Araya murmured. “There’ll be way too many spies crawling around the river.”

“Then what do you suggest Araya?” Jöel asked.

“We could always take the mountain passage,” Caden shrugged. He was clutching his dagger in his hand and flipping the material up and down between his fingers.

Araya rolled her eyes at him. 

“And how exactly do you expect Mollie to hike up a mountain range?”

Caden grimaced at the comment. 

Before anyone else could respond the woman working the pub the night before came to their table to take away their plates. Mollie had barely touched hers.

“Leyla,” Araya said suddenly turning to the young waitress.

She gave the girl a sharp look as Araya gestured for her to come over.

“Do you still use that old carriage to transport food to the rural villages?”

Leyla sighed.

“Not recently. It’s been dangerous to travel these days, what with the rumours and all…”

She trailed off as she eyed the other members at the table uncomfortably. 

“We’re going to need to…borrow it.”

Jöel seemed to be choosing his words wisely and Mollie watched the girls reaction closely. 

“Are you asking me or informing me?” she muttered her dark eyebrows furrowing. 

“Is there still passage through the Obsidian desert?” Araya interjected. She had been chewing her lip nervously ever since Leyla had sauntered past their table.

Leyla grimaced.

“The volcanoes have been active. Our people believe it is a sign of unrest,” she trailed off for a second, her dark eyes flickering between Mollie and the others. “And they are not wrong. Look at what has unfolded. The last time it erupted our monarchy fell.”

“I’m going to need the transport Leyla. Please.”

Araya was looking at Leyla severely, her grave expression not going unnoticed. 

“What will I get in return?” she challenged raising a single slim brow. 

Mollie could see the flush set in to Araya’s cheeks. With all of the differences Mollie had been able to spot between the Ophian empire and Lyon regime – one thing appeared to stay the same: every deed had a price.

“You _will_ be compensated.”

That familiar gruff husky voice permeated the pub once again and Mollie jerked as Zen re-appeared from around the corner stairwell, cloak in place and cheeks flushed as he slung two packs around his shoulder – one his and the other Mollie’s.

Zephyr all but spat it out but it was enough for the girl who retracted the minute she saw him. 

Mollie had seen the carriage Zephyr was referring to. It was an old ancient thing that seemed to have taken its fair share of travel across many lands. It didn’t look strong enough to carry two let alone four people. It stood awkwardly outside the small pub, the wood peeling, the door slightly ajar. Mollie cringed just thinking about it.

“We’re not all going to fit in that carriage,” Caden muttered as if reading Mollie’s mind.

“Of course not,” Araya snapped as Mollie and Joël rose from the small booth. “Some of us think about these things before hand,” Araya muttered.

Caden frowned at Araya who quickly flicked her dark green hood over her head. 

“Our ride is outside,” she said coolly.

Through the rain Mollie could make out two large figures in the distance. It looked massive and as the others prepared for the travel Mollie noticed Zen slip outside – his own dark hood flicked up to conceal his face.

Quickly she followed her, yellow cloak doing its job to protect her from the harsh elements of Ophian land.

When Mollie stepped outside she saw two of the most regal horses she had ever seen. They weren’t like the generic horses used to pull carriages from one location to the next…these ones were ethereal. The first was pitch black, its glossy coat wet and glistening from the rain. The other was a pearly white, its coat still managing to maintain its luminescence in spite of the rainy weather. 

Mollie was _almost_ envious that this would be their mode of transport. Her grandparents had owned stables back in Riverton. The horses used to ride freely amongst the greenery at some point. It was a memory that had been buried deep in her mind, something that re-surfaced only now. 

Ahead of the horses was the old rundown carriage. She assumed that would be her mode of transport. Mollie was in no condition to ride a horse. 

“How long is the travel?” Mollie asked hesitantly as she stepped to stand beside Zen who was glancing at a rather detailed map. The rain was light in spite of the foggy atmosphere but Mollie didn’t mind. For a land as arid as the one they found themselves in…the rain was far and few. She’d enjoy it when it came. 

“It’s a twenty hour travel via carriage,” Zephyr muttered. “A lot quicker than the three days it takes by foot.”

Mollie nodded and adjusted her now tight shirt that was pressing tight against her torso.

“Where did you find these creatures?” she asked curiously brushing her fingers against the slick coat of the black horse beside her.

“Luna,” Zen said softly his eyes flickering to hers. “She figured we may not be returning…told us to take them with us. This one here is _Jetta_ and the other is _Blanche.”_

At their names both let out a soft chortle of acknowledgment and bowed slightly. 

“Wow,” she laughed as the sleek horse brushed its head against her palm.

“This one is young and playful,” Zephyr said with a smile giving the horse a firm pat on its flank.

Mollie eyed the heavy saddle that rested on the horses.

“Is this really necessary?” she muttered tugging on the heavy fabric as the horses walked forward to drink from a heavy wooden bucket. 

Zen eyed her curiously.

“If you want to get from point A to point B then yes.”

She frowned at his tone as he walked over to the wooden carriage to pack their bags into the back.

“I don’t think they like it,” she murmured as the white horse shook out her fur, rattling the saddle on her back. 

“Yeah well, I don’t particularly like teaching new recruits,” Zen responded gruffly. “But I don’t get the luxury of choosing whether I do or don't.”

“They’re not meant to be tethered,” Mollie murmured brushing her fingers through its delicate mane. 

She could feel Zen’s eyes on her from afar.

She stilled when she felt him venture closer. Her breaths quickened as she felt his own brush the back of her neck.

“They’ll get their freedom Mollie,” he said softly, his voice husky and deep. She shivered as she felt his hands encircle her waist from behind. “Sometimes it just… takes a little time before that happens.”

The sound of footsteps on the steps of the pub echoed and Mollie felt Zen’s arms disappear from around her. 

“Zephyr.”

Araya’s sharp voice echoed through the crisp foggy air and Mollie jumped as Jöel and Isla Lyon appeared beside her. The woman seemed more frail now than before and Mollie cringed as she glared at Mollie with her pale blue eyes. She obviously hadn’t lost her spark for evil.

“Sweet is this our ride?” 

Caden’s boyish drawl echoed across the landing as he strode towards the jet black horse beside Mollie. 

“Not today,” Zen’s strict tone sent the smile washing off the boy’s face as the tall blonde gestured with his chin toward the carriage where two sad brown horses sat mulling in front of the wooden box. “You’re coming with me and Mollie.”

Mollie didn’t miss the subtle wordless exchange between Araya and Zephyr and she looked questioningly at Zen who deftly avoided her gaze. 

Jöel had carefully loaded Isla onto the horses back and Mollie caught site of a long sword strapped to her thigh. Hell, even she had a weapon. Mollie wondered why Zen had been so adamant to allow her to take one of her own. She had asked him several times during training but he brushed her off each time. Maybe he didn’t think she was ready? Or maybe she wasn’t strong enough? These questions plagued her even as he silently loaded her into the carriage – their previous exchange of affection as fleeting as the rain in the deserts of Ophian land. Mollie felt as if the others were purposely hiding something from her. She could see it even when Araya gave her another tight hug. It felt almost…parting. Tighter than usual. As if she wouldn’t be seeing her again. Mollie wanted to corner her and get it out of her…she knew she could but circumstances were not on her side.

“Stay safe Mollie. We will see each other again soon.”

Jöel’s warm parting allowed Mollie a small smile as she watched the other three members leave down the path ahead of them. 

Mollie felt a strong sense of déjà vu hit her as she sat near the carriage window. However instead of a white backdrop it was a grey dusty atmosphere that awaited her.

There was something off. Something the others weren’t telling her. She could _sense_ it.

***

“Why are we stopping?”

Mollie blinked awake as Caden’s whiney drawl echoed through the small space.

In fact he was correct. The soft sway of the carriage was slowing down and as Mollie blinked her tiredness away she could see they were on a narrow but paved pathway leading towards what appeared to be thick wrought iron gates. 

“We’re taking a small detour,” Zen said monotonously, his eyes never straying from the window. 

The carriage rolled off the pavement onto a dusty landscape away from the paved road sending Mollie jolting forward as she clutched protectively at her belly. It was a reflexive action and she steadied herself as the carriage came to a slow halt.

“Caden,” Zen said sharply. “Stay with the carriage. This won’t take long.”

Caden’s eyes widened and as Mollie exited the carriage stepping into thankfully cooler and less stifling air than Ophian land she could see the excitement on the boys face. 

“Really?”

Zen shot him a half smile.

“Yep. You’re ready. Guard our belongings with your life. You don’t know who else is scouring these lands.”

Caden nodded eagerly exiting the carriage and placing a hand protectively over his sword. 

“Let’s go,” Zen muttered gripping Mollie’s upper arm. 

Mollie felt a tingle go down her spine at leaving Caden alone on the side of this abandoned road but Zen seemed at ease. 

“Will he be okay alone?” Mollie asked as Zen all but lifted her over the heavy boulders scattered along the pathway. 

Zen laughed swinging the heavy pack on his shoulder onto his other arm. 

“He’s small for a twenty year old, but he’s quick and agile. Caden can handle it if anything happens.”

Mollie had seen him spar with Araya many times. The boy was incredibly quick, but still his size bothered her. He was so small and lanky. If anyone Zen’s size or bigger fought him Mollie couldn’t fathom whether he’d make it or not. 

“I also don’t have much of a choice,” Zen admitted after a moment as they looped around a set of stacked rocks down a dusty slope scattered with quartz, limestone, and other coal like materials Mollie had never seen before. “He’s the only one here besides you and I.”

Mollie half smiled. He did have a point. Everything else around them seemed devoid of anything – nothing but roan red rocks and the simple cobbled pathway leading them deeper towards the Marchesseault regime. Mollie didn’t see water – animals – not even the slightest inkling of plant life. It made her nervous.

"What's _Peréal_ like?" Mollie asked as they walked further into the dusty landscape. 

Zen chuckled at her question. He seemed to have slowed down his pace to match hers and Mollie was secretly grateful. It was getting harder and harder for to keep up with each passing day. 

"It's not like _Anubis,"_ he said. "It's large and modern and...comforting. It feels like a city. 

Mollie felt her spirits rise hearing this. The desolate harsh conditions of the desert Ophian land was a struggle to adapt to and Mollie didn't think she'd be able to go through that experience for a second time. 

Mollie hesitated as she asked her next question. 

"What about the King?" 

Zephyr shrugged as he squinted against the afternoon sunrays. He seemed to be looking for something or _someone_. Mollie followed his gaze but was met with nothing but the blinding light of the unforgiving desert sun. 

"What about him?" Zen muttered. 

Mollie frowned but Zen seemed to have connected the dots rather quickly. 

"I suppose every monarchy has its own internal adversities."

Mollie waited for him to elaborate. He shot her a knowing look as they continued their walk across the uneven land. 

"Alexandre Marchesseault was the youngest of three siblings. There was his older sister Cosette and his elder brother Olivier. They were close when they were young, a good sturdy familial unit." 

Mollie listened carefully as Zen told her the story. 

"Things began to escalate when they got older and responsibilities began to get in the way of their fun. Reality came charging at them like a brick wall. Alexandre was a rather promiscuous prince. His reputation was not unknown amongst the elite."

Mollie winced. She knew that stuff was important to monarchies. Micah was always going off about it whenever he got cross with her. 

"Anyways, Olivier being the oldest, would be next in line for the throne. However, the idiot fell in love with a commoner. Ended up choosing her over everything else and was forced to renounce his title."

"You can do that?" Mollie asked. "You can give up your title?"

"Kind of," Zen explained. "The current King of the monarchy must approve it in order for the renouncement to be legitimate." 

Mollie's face fell. She could see how difficult that could end up being. 

"Did he?" 

"It took a long time," Zen admitted as he grabbed Mollie's hand to help her over a particularly jagged set of rocks. "But eventually he got it."

"That's good...I guess." 

Zen shrugged. 

"His renouncement meant that Alexandre would become King...but being the youngest he was spoiled and immature. He was a boy in big mans shoes." Zen paused after this, letting the words sweep from his lips in short bursts of information. "Before their father -- the former King- died, he had arranged marriages for all three of his children. But Olivier took his own path and before Cosette could even walk down the aisle, she was struck by a horrible bout of plague. She died the day her youngest brother became King."

"And Alexandre?" 

Zen frowned. "He was the only legitimate Marchesseault. Olivier's twin boys he shared with his wife were no longer regarded as royals within the monarchy despite the half royal blood in their veins. This meant Alexandre had to marry quickly and produce an heir and a spare as soon as possible." 

Mollie grimaced. 

_That poor woman._

"He was set to wed Ophélie Rineaux of the Rineaux Regime. The older of two sisters -- princesses of the realm." 

Mollie perked up when she heard this. 

She had seen that woman before...at the Lyon dinner table in Questershire. She had appeared to be in good relations with the Lyons. But it was impossible...there was no way she was married to Alexandre Marchesseault. She ruled her own land - Mollie had heard her say so.

Zen continued speaking and Mollie listened with rapt attention. 

"However, Alexandre Marchesseault was not one to be forced into acquiescing to the demands of others. Not even his late father. He had his sights set on her sister. The young maiden of fourteen. 

Mollie felt her throat thicken when she heard this. 

"During a visit to the Rineaux Regime he took the maiden for himself and claimed her as his own. Unfortunately for him, that backfired and he was banished from ever setting foot on Rineaux soil for life." 

"And the maiden?" Mollie asked stiffly. 

"I'm not sure what happened to her. But even so, she had been defiled. No prince would claim her now. Not when she had been taken and used and before marriage too." 

"But it wasn't her fault," Mollie protested. 

"Rules are rules Mollie," he said bluntly. "And the monarchy is stringent when it comes to abiding to them." 

"What happened to Alexandre after that?" Mollie pressed. 

"He married another princess, from some other empire. He had two sons with her. One died last year -- freak accident during a voyage. I believe the other is still alive." 

Mollie listened silently. She had mixed feelings about Alexandre Marchesseault since the moment she heard about him and she was glad to know her trepidation did not go unfounded. The man sounded despicable. 

"Despite all his flaws," Zen continued. "He... is a good leader. The Marchesseault regime has continued to thrive and prosper under his rule ever since he took the throne at the age of sixteen." 

_Sixteen?_. Mollie gulped. That was no king -- that was a child. 

"What about the queen?" Mollie asked as Zen ushered her around a sharp corner of rock. 

"She died last year," Zen said softly. "She caught something bad --died like Alexandre's sister did. I suppose it was somewhat karmatic -- considering what the boy had done in his youth."

Mollie shivered. It was a horrible series of events. 

Mollie hadn't even realized how far they had walked from the carriage and when she looked up at her surroundings she was shocked to see a large winding staircase of rock above them. The thing was crumbling and looked as if it hadn't been used in centuries. 

“Zen,” she said hesitantly as he guided her around a rather large boulder towards the first step. It looked terribly precarious – even if Mollie wasn’t in the condition she was in. 

_“Zephyr,”_ she said with more force as he huffed and turned to look at her.

“What? Don’t you trust me?”

Mollie stopped dead in her tracks. For a moment she felt Micah’s presence as if he were there right beside her. _His_ voice questioning her. It made her stomach drop to the floor and turned her bones to jelly. 

She remembered a vivid memory in that moment. Something Micah had told her, his cold lips brushing her ear.

_You see how it feels Mollie? To have your trust for someone probed and queried before your eyes after so willingly handing it over to them?”_

Mollie began to breathe heavily. 

What was she doing? What the hell was she thinking? 

Mollie could feel the air sliding past her lips in breathless sweeps as she dug her fingers into her palms and began to hyperventilate.

_The man beside her was a Lyon too. All of them were the same. She had said so herself. What’s to stop him from harming her too?_

Zephyr seemed to have noticed her moment of recollection and he too stopped to stare at her.

“Mollie?” he asked stepping closer.

“Get _away_ from me!” 

Mollie backed up, stumbling on the uneven terrain as she clutched at her belly in terror and choked on the dusty air around them.

“Mollie be careful!”

Zephyr’s eyes widened as he noticed Mollie’s unsteady balance.

“No…no…no no no.”

Was he leading her away from the carriage? Away from any witnesses so he could get rid of her? Had she been _too_ trusting? 

These rabid thoughts went through her head as she stood beside the blonde rebel prince – her mind spiralling into a vortex of gruesome manifestations of the signs she had missed – of what may become of her and her children.

_“Mollie calm down.”_

Was she screaming? She wasn’t sure. Her mind was fogging up and her belly was clenching. 

“Fuck,” she heard Zen yell as she stumbled backwards – her extra weight disturbing her centre of gravity as she felt Zen grab a hold of her before she could fall forward.

Before she knew it she was being crushed against his chest, his warm palms on her head as he held her steady. He had caught her and brought her slowly towards the ground so she lay sprawled across his lap.

Her breathing was still ragged and choppy and her vision was blurring.

_What was happening to her?_

Zen was talking to her but she couldn’t hear him properly. The blood rushing through her ears was too much for her to overcome

He was covering her mouth? His calloused palm was firm against her face -- pushing hard to curb her rapid breathing.

Her head was woozy and her belly was killing her but luckily whatever Zephyr was doing was working. She felt the feeling return to her limbs and she flailed again, her body jerking against his as he held her tight. 

“It’s okay it’s okay. Fuck. Just relax – _relax._ Breathe. C’mon Moll, _breathe.”_

Was that a tremor she heard in his voice? She blinked up at him, her brown eyes meeting frantic blue ones. 

His eyebrows were knitted together and his features were twisted into something resembling fear. 

“Are you alright? Mollie?”

She blinked in confusion. Her mind clearing and sweet oxygen suddenly filling her lungs at a speed she found acceptable. 

“What?” she whispered as he finally dropped his hand from her face. He still kept the tight grip he had on her torso even as she moved forward to support herself. “Can you..let go?” she asked suddenly, his grip digging into her bones. 

“What the _fuck_ was that?” he asked his expression transitioning from of fear into one of anger. “Was that some kind of joke? Are you _fucking_ with me?”

“No,” she said hotly pushing away from him. “I…” she trailed off for a moment not knowing what to tell him. Mollie herself wasn’t quite sure what happened. Her fear that he would harm her and the child sent her into a fit that had her gasping for air. Now that she thought about it…the entire thing seemed incredibly irrational.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I couldn’t breathe for a second,” she admitted brushing her hair back. The cold sweat at the back of her neck made her curls stick fast and she ran her fingers through her hair once more. 

Zen seemed shaken and Mollie realized he must have been more spooked than she was.

“You…you were scared of me.”

His voice came out as more of a statement than a question and Mollie tensed.

“Of course not,” she said immediately steadying herself and rising up to her full height. She averted her gaze as Zen rose to his feet taking the time to dust the red sand that had stained her black tunic and pants. 

“I saw the look on your face,” he continued ignoring Mollie’s attempts to drop the subject. “I know fear when I see it.”

“It was nothing,” she muttered suddenly embarrassed at the entire ordeal.

“That wasn’t nothing Mollie,” Zen pressed his eyes flickering to her belly. “When was the last time you went for a check up?”

“Can you just drop it?” she hissed shooting him a glare. “I’m alright. It was just…the heat.”

She had already turned around to stare at the pathway Zen had prompted her to take before she had collapsed. She didn’t need to look at him to know the expression that was on his face. He knew as well as she did that whatever happened had _nothing_ whatsoever to do with the heat.

He didn’t say anything but Mollie could feel his eyes burning a whole through her back. Whatever he wanted to show her – she hoped he made it quick. The entire ordeal scared her too – more than she cared to admit. But she didn’t want to think about it anymore. Not for a long time.

***

The trek wasn’t as hard as she had first thought and Zephyr was there to guide her whenever the trail got too tricky. They didn’t speak about what happened again and Mollie was only too glad to direct the conversation elsewhere – or what little words they _did_ exchange.

She could feel the air become hotter with each step she took but Zen didn’t comment on anything. Her mind was sound. She knew he wouldn’t harm her. Not when he had already had ample opportunity to do so. And certainly not when they were so close to the nearest city. 

“Are you…sure you’re up to this?” his deep rumble startled her from her thoughts. Hastily she swiped her hand across her forehead and nodded. “Because we can head back. I don’t want you to over-exert yourself.”

“I already said I’m fine Zen.”

She didn’t actually mean to snap at him but her tone came out harsher than she intended. He went quiet and she bit her lip. She knew he was concerned for her – but her emotions were all over the place. She just needed to get this over with. Whatever he wanted with her.

As they reached the top of mountain Mollie was surprised to see an old wrinkled man at the top, his clothes sticking to his body with sweat and his beard thick and coated with the red sandy dust that seemed to settle all over this place.

She paused in surprise but Zen was quick to tug her forward – a sign that this was to be expected.

“Marozzo,” Zen said swiftly dropping to his knees. 

Mollie looked between them in surprise as the men’s milky eyes turned to flicker between the two of them. 

“So this is her?”

His voice was a whisper, a thick accent marring his syllables in a manner that made it difficult for Mollie to understand. 

“Yes.” 

Zen’s voice cut through the silence that followed the mans question and Mollie stood frozen as she watched him scrutinize her. 

“I apologize for the delay,” Zen said slowly standing up to his full height. 

The old man held up a hand for Zephyr to remain quiet as he stepped closer to Mollie.

Mollie had a billion questions running through her head at this point. Who was this man? Why was he here? Why had Zen asked him to be here? How did he know to come to this exact spot in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere?

But she kept her lips closed and stood still.

“Hm,” the man muttered stepping even closer to Mollie so he stood directly in front of her.

She was taller than him, his face only reaching to around her neck, but something about his presence screamed danger. 

As he began to circle around her Mollie heard him begin to mutter under his breath. 

Mollie watched him out of the corner of her eyes, her sharp gaze going straight for the heavy weapons that the old man had strapped to his back. She stiffened, her frightened gaze meeting Zen’s who re-assured her with his strong gaze.

She was safe. She would not be harmed.

_“dritto fendente…dritto sgualembrato…dritto tondo….falso dritto….montante…sotto mano.”_

She remained still as he came around her left side, his mutterings only increasing in tone. 

_“fendente rouerso…rouerso sgualembrato…rouerso tondo…falso mancho…molinello.”_

He stopped in front of her once again. Mollie was suddenly struck by how strong the man was in spite of his seemingly frail frame. In his back were swords, heavy metals of steel and iron that he had been carrying with him for the duration of his scrutiny.

“You have been trained.”

Mollie hesitated. The mans’ challenging stare was intimidating.

She nodded slowly.

“Speak.”

She jolted and quickly muttered a yes.

“Let me see your palms.”

Mollie acquiesced…her heart slamming in her chest. 

The man griped her hands tightly and brought them outstretched before her, his eyes scanning over the lines that criss crossed across her palms. 

His tanned wrinkled skin gave the illusion of frailty even without the deep indents and gashes that marred his skin. But his grip suggested otherwise and Mollie had no doubt this man was a warrior – a fighter. Only those who fought in battle had scars like that on their body.

“Steel,” he muttered. “Rose water, pearl skin, fish scale, and gold.”

Mollie looked questioningly at Zen who had an unreadable expression on his face as he watched the man mutter and reach deep into the rucksack strapped to his back.

Mollie felt a shiver go down her spine as he straightened up and turned around to face her once again. Laying across both palms was an elegant dagger, the metal tinted rose-gold, the handle curved inward – shiny and moulded in vine like motions – the appearance not so different from the scales on a school of fish. The metal was not silver like Jöels, not blue like Micah’s – not green like Zen’s. It was a pearly white – beautifully complimented by the rose gold handle.

“Hold it.”

It was beautiful – a work of art Mollie couldn’t help but marvel at and she slowly reached for the dagger her fingers curling around the cool polished handle. 

Mollie stared at the dagger, the top of the hilt adorned with tiny shimmering stones, but with enough space below the handle to leave space for a myriad of other slots to be filled. She remembered Micah’s dagger in that moment. Its weight. The full ornate display of precious, gems, stones and diamonds that decorated his. She knew now. She knew what they were meant for. It was a display of your accomplishments. Of how many gems you had gotten from someone else’ dagger. It was a display of your kills. Of your strength. Of your _competence._

And now. Mollie’s was bare. Her dagger never having seen a kill. 

“So it is,” the old man said softly curling his fingers around Mollie’s once before letting go.

She looked up at Zen who’s expression softened immediately. If Mollie didn’t know any better she would have thought she saw a flicker of pride in his eyes. Whatever happened, Zen looked pleased.

“Proceed,” the old man said sharply. “Stain your blade and press it to the Earth.”

Mollie looked up at Zen worriedly who had crossed the distance he had been standing at to stand beside Mollie.

“It is a custom,” he murmured. “Every trainee who has completed the five pillars must stain their blade with their own blood before they stain it with another’s.” She looked up at him confusedly as he brushed his hand against her own. She hadn’t even realized how hard she had been holding the dagger in her hands, and carefully she eased her grip. “They used to believe in ancient times that the dagger would remember its owners blood after its first splash of blood and that if an enemy ever attempted to use the blade on its owner, the blade would turn to ash – unable to pierce that whose blood gave it its first sweet nectar.”

Mollie listened carefully. 

“If you’d rather not…”

“No,” Mollie said softly gripping the cool blade in her hand. Slowly she opened the palm of her left hand and slid the sharp edge of the weapon gently across her soft skin.

The man began to murmur again and Mollie gently closed her hand on the shimmery pearly material of the weapon and watched as her blood stained the steel red. 

“It is complete.”

The old mans breathy tone pierced the air and carefully he handed her a delicate casing that strapped against her waist. It was an elegant addition to the dagger she had been given.

The man bowed once again with Mollie mirroring his movements before he turned back around in the direction of the blazing sun.

“May I?” she heard Zen murmur against her ear.

“Not a chance,” she replied with a smirk.

Carefully she sheathed her blade into its casing and snapped it onto her hip as Zen smiled at her.

“Good girl,” he muttered teasingly as she tucked her hair behind her ears.

She looked up at him, her cheeks reddening as he stared down at her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked tentatively as the tall blonde squinted into the distance. His blue eyes flickered back to hers in seconds.

He shrugged.

“I had to make sure the time was right.”

Mollie didn’t quite understand the answer but she didn’t press it. Her heart was fluttering too quickly for her to care.

“You really think I’m ready?” she whispered looking up at him.

Zephyr shot her a half smile. The lazy one that made him seem so much like the twenty one year old he really was and not the old boring adult persona he usually adopted. 

“You are.”

“But how do you _know?”_ she interjected.

“Marozzo would have never completed the ritual had you not been ready.”

She looked up in surprise before turning around to look behind her.

The only thing in her sight was the pathway leading them back down towards the parked carriage. The man that had been standing there before was gone. Not a footprint, not even a scent was left to suggest he had even been there at all.”

“That was him?” Mollie asked. She couldn’t help but look around them – hoping to catch even a glimpse of the man that had secured her as a master of the five pillars.

“Yes. Marozzo is his name. He is the most renowned swordsmith of this generation. It’s nearly impossible to find him these days…” Zen hesitated for a moment. “I apologize about the journey here, but I didn’t want you to have anything but the best. You…you deserve the best.”

Mollie felt her heart swell at his words and she was suddenly overcome with emotion. She had been reading him wrong ever since he had returned. 

“Thank you Zephyr,” she mumbled, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” he said strictly. “You trained hard. As your mentor I’m proud to see that you persevered and that you succeeded.”

“I’m not thanking you as a student,” she said softly. “I’m thanking you…as an ally…as a friend.”

She didn’t need to say it for Zephyr to understand. Their relationship had long since left the realm of mentor and student long ago. Even before that intimate night they had shared. 

He smiled at her. For the briefest second Mollie could swear he wanted to say something more. His lips parted, his eyes quivering the slightest bit his palms flexing.

This time, Mollie didn't wait for him. She stepped forward and kissed him deeply burying her fingers into the damp golden locks that curled at the nape of his neck. Mollie gasped against his lips, his tongue inching into her mouth to twirl around hers. She moaned as he sucked hard on her lower lip. The kiss was dizzying and passionate and sloppy but Mollie didn’t mind. She didn’t care. 

The sun had began to settle, the darkness of nightfall creeping up from the edges of the clear desert sky. 

By the time Zephyr released her from his lips Mollie was breathless and sweating. He said nothing more as she breathed out slowly and followed him down the pathway. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She remembered in that moment how much hate she used to harbour for the boy beside her. How that hate had turned into something warm and soft and comforting. How it had turned into the antithesis of its very being. 

She swallowed and tightened her grip on him. She knew with this distinction came a load of responsibility – a new beginning. But she also knew that with it came an end. And end to her training. An end to him as her mentor. And the very thought made her throat swell with a heavy sadness. A sadness that terrified her more than anything else she had endured. 

***

“We’re being followed.”

Caden’s head snapped up as the carriage continued down the cobbled winding road. Mollie could see the remnants of homes beginning to scatter the surrounding area and she felt a sense of comfort as plains of grass and plant and wildlife began to blossom along the roadside. The stark transition from Ophian territory to Marchesseault land was overwhelming and Mollie couldn’t begin to explain how relieved she was to see everything other than sand and russet brown stone around her.

“How do you know?”

Mollie turned to the others as Zen’s concerned tone disrupted the small quiet silence of the carriage interior. 

“Behind us,” he muttered.

“Not just behind us.”

Caden said this through gritted teeth and in a flash Mollie looked ahead to see several men on horses closing in around them.

Mollie felt the blood drain from her face as she realized these men – men of the Marchesseault regime – were closing in on them.

“Why?” she asked somewhat hysterically. “Why would they attack us? Surely they know we’re with Caius and Caleb.”

“They’re not in a defensive position,” Caden muttered despite reaching for his sword. 

“That doesn’t mean they won’t engage,” Zen growled unsheathing his own sword. Mollie noticed he reached for his desertblade..not his dagger and she tensed. 

“What about Araya and Jöel?” she choked. Mollie suddenly felt a fear in the pit of her stomach for the other members of the Insurgency. She prayed this was nothing – just a routine stop to monitor who was entering and leaving their borders.

Perhaps it was her lack of experience or naivety that was the cause of these thoughts. But Mollie didn’t want to think about a different scenario. Not one where bloodshed was involved.

The carriage came to a halt and Mollie could hear the screech of the horses as they slowed to a stop. 

From her spot in the carriage Mollie could see there were around seven to twelve men around them. They all wore the crisp crimson red colours of the Marchesseault regime.

“Stay in the carriage,” Zen growled as he locked eyes with her. Before Mollie could reply both him and Caden were hopping out of the carriage and onto the cobbled streets on the outskirts of _Peréal_. They had not yet reached the city. Mollie could now easily spot the wrought iron gates ahead of them. They were not out of danger yet. They were still in uncharted territory.

“Zen _wait,”_ Mollie choked, but he was gone before he could respond. 

She sat in terror as she heard the formation close in around them. Her babies writhed inside her – probably feeling the sudden onset of stress that was wracking her body. She clutched at her belly, rubbing soft circles around her protrusion to calm them as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

_They can handle this. They can handle this. They’ve been training for years._

“Where is the girl?”

Mollie’s eyes snapped open when she heard the question. 

“I’ve already told you. She’s _off limits._ ”

Zen’s hateful tone reverberated through the air and Mollie heard the sounds of several swords unsheathing.

Her heart began to thump wildly in her chest.

“There is no need for initiation,” said a man with a heavy French accent. “We simply want the girl. We mean her no harm. Our conditions were clear – we told you this during our last meeting. Hand her over and you are free to go. We told your father the very same thing.”

Mollie’s heart was hammering through her now and she inched closer to the window. _Last meeting?_ Had Zephyr known that these men had been after her? Is that why they had to leave the pub so abruptly? Is that why Araya had been acting so strangely?

The voices picked up again outside and Mollie could feel her palms beginning to sweat. 

It was twelve to two. Even with all the training in the world Mollie knew it would be a very slim victory. Not even all of their training combined could overtake these men. It just wasn’t feasible.

“Then you have forced our hand prince.”

The sound of metal against metal sent Mollie into a frenzy and she couldn’t sit back any longer. She wouldn’t let him die for her. She wouldn’t let Araya lose a brother…she wouldn’t let Caius lose another son because of her.

 _“Stop,”_ she cried out fumbling the carriage door open and stumbling onto the jagged cobbled steps. 

She knew she had disobeyed an order and the look on Zen’s face as he whirled around to glare at her sent her cowering against the carriage door.

“Get back in the _fucking carriage.”_

Zephyr’s voice was pure venom but Mollie swallowed and moved her gaze towards the men around them. 

They stiffened when they saw her and Mollie could see the surprise that flitted across their features.

_“Mon Dieu c’est vrai.”_

Mollie ignored the comment and flattened herself against the carriage door. They were all staring at her as if she were a foreign gem or treasured commodity.

_“Mollie.”_

“Mollie.”

This voice was different – deeper and Mollie whirled around in surprise. 

“Caius?” she whispered.

She hadn’t seen him in weeks and his presence suddenly filled her with a sense of comfort. Beside him was Caleb, his axe resting lightly on his shoulder. Behind them on a snow white horse was Araya, her choppy bob fluttering in the wind as Jöel sat stony faced beside her, his jet black horse inches away from his comrades.

_They were here. They had made it._

“You know the terms Master Caius.”

The same guard that had spoken before looked darkly at Caius whose eyes never left Mollie’s. 

“I am aware of the terms. Mollie will be accompanying us to _Peréal_. There is no need for you to separate her from the rest of us. She will be granted the same rights to enter and leave the land as a diplomat -- not as a commoner.”

“I have strict orders from the King himself,” the guard said stiffly. 

Caius looked at the guard pleasantly.

“At ease boys,” he said motioning for Caden and Zen to lower their swords. 

Zephyr was glaring daggers at Mollie and she swallowed uneasily keeping her gaze glued to Caius.

“I came here immediately following my meeting with his majesty _Alexandre Marchesseault._ It appears your King has overridden those orders.”

The guard seemed taken aback and Mollie watched as he gripped his sword tighter his face quickly switching into something antagonistic. 

“You really want to take that chance?” Caius’ voice had taken on that soft dangerous lilt that sent a tingle down her spine. “I have agreed to the King’s demands on the exception that Mollie stays with _us._ We are to accompany her there for the duration of our stay in _Peréal._

Mollie tensed.

_What? Why were they so interested in her?_

The guards seemed reluctant but Mollie could tell they could do little. Disobeying the Kings orders was a crime and if Caius was telling the truth, the repercussions could be lethal. Either way they would end up in _Peréal_ …whether these guards dragged her there as a prisoner or if they granted her access to the city along with the Insurgency.

 _“Bien,”_ the guard said all of a sudden. “Come then. But wait outside the castle gates until we verify these dealings with his majesty himself.”

“Of course,” Caius said pleasantly. “That wasn’t so difficult was it?”

The guard turned to Caius his expression unreadable.

Mollie felt her heart clench when she saw the wicked smile cross the mans features. 

“I suppose not. But unfortunately for you. His majesty has no intentions of seeing _you_ return. Not when your presence is so sought after by others. After all, those terms only apply if you are alive to see them through.”

A soft chuckle from behind turned Mollie’s body to stone as another more menacing presence washed over the ambiance.

The pathway curved upwards behind them, blocking out the setting sun in the distance as several figures emerged from the elevated land. Mollie felt her heart thump unevenly as figure upon figure appeared on the hill, a mini army washing them in a sea of gold and blue. 

She knew that laugh, she knew those colours…she knew that chilly presence and she felt her legs begin to give way.

“Uncle,” said that soft icy purr. “Long time no see. Father will be simply _ecstatic_ to see you.”

Mollie turned around, her belly clenching, her heart pounding. Her hands were shaking, the sweat dripping off of them as she turned to the source of that voice – so soft – so languid – so _chilling._

Mollie screamed as a thick arrow, whizzed past her from above a sickening crunch echoing through the air as something large and heavy fell from the horse beside her. The aim was perfect. They had been set up.

Everything was a blur to Mollie as hands grabbed her from behind and Zephyr's shouts echoed through the air. 

But amidst all of the chaos that was happening around her Mollie could only make sense of one thing...

He was here. The winter prince had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of plot here. We crossed the halfway point to the story. Things are going to get messy from here on out.


	41. Niobium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lyon reunion takes a dark turn. Mollie deals with a new heavy truth.

Mollie felt the air leave her lungs in ragged breaths as she stumbled backwards.

Caius was on the ground, his body twisting as the arrow sunk deep into his torso, the blood seeping between his fingers.

_No. Please no._

Araya was next to her father in an instant as the Marchesseault guard of twelve retreated ever so slightly. 

“Caius? Caius? Are you alright?”

Mollie could tell Araya was trying her best to keep the hysteria out of her voice but was failing miserably.

“You never informed me that you invited some extra company to the negotiation.”

Micah’s voice held a shred of amusement and Mollie watched in fear as he looked down at them from his position on the higher ground above them. The setting sun behind him bathed the winter prince and his army in shadow and Mollie struggled to see his face. 

“That is a violation of royal protocol. You should know better than that Caius.” Micah’s soft voice somehow carried over the distance between himself and the people below him and in spite of its softness there was a cold icy layer of danger that made Mollie shudder in her boots. “What happened?” Micah purred. “Did all those years in the shadows make you forget the rules?”

His icy tone sent a chill down Mollie’s spine and she flattened herself against the side wall of the carriage in fear. In an instant she was being surrounded and Mollie knew the reason immediately. Caden, Zephyr and Jöel had circled her – any further arrow or sword having to go through them before it reached her. Not that he would shoot her – not in her condition anyway. 

Caius slowly rose to his feet again and Mollie watched as both the Lyon army ahead of them and the Marchesseault’s behind them began to inch forward.

“In spite of what you may think _Prince Micah,_ I did not invite the Marchesseaults to our little meeting.”

Caius’s voice was ragged but loud and strong enough to carry through. He spat the prince’s name as he spoke.

As the winter prince stepped out of the shadows Mollie felt the rest of her breath escape her lips.

He had that expression on his face – that one he held when he was about to do something gravely unpredictable – the same look he had on his face when he nearly dropped her over the balcony in his quarters all those months ago. His eyes were like two blank emeralds shining with a lustre that seemed to be frozen solid. His face was carefully impassive, his eyes never straying once from the blond man who managed to push himself to his feet.

Seeing him brought back a flood of memories and Mollie felt her legs knock together with unease. He looked as cold and as menacing as ever -- his dark chestnut hair tousled in waves, his dark brows knitted together. She was struggling to see past his exterior – past his carefully moulded persona of the winter prince. But she knew Micah was somewhere inside of him, somewhere buried deep. She just couldn’t find him at this moment in time.

He hadn’t looked at her – not once and Mollie knew he was all business in these moments. Nothing would distract him – not even her.

“Looks can be…deceiving.”

Caius’s voice had a tremor when he said the last word and Mollie saw Micah shift his eyes ever so slightly. He was sizing up his crowd and Mollie wondered what was going through his mind.

“Lyon Prince.”

The Marchesseault guard from behind ventured forward and Mollie watched in utter fear as he bowed at the young prince above him. 

“We brought what you wanted. Now let us take what we want.”

Micah’s expression never faltered. Not even when Zen roared in fury prompting several guards from behind to close in on him. 

Mollie trembled as they pushed him into the ground – five of them struggling to keep the large boy restrained. 

Mollie could see Zen’s face and she felt her stomach drop to the ground. His face was twisted into a look of utter hatred and it was boring straight for the man above them. He was surrounded by a sea of red and Mollie sat still as Jöel held her arm strictly in his. It was a subtle warning. 

Micah said nothing his eyes flickering between the two groups before him. 

“What was your business here?”

The guard bowed again as Micah addressed him directly.

“We are here to collect something on behalf of King Marchesseault. We were well on our way towards doing so before Caius and his… _army_ intervened. We proposed several peaceful transactions in the past -- but he refused us each time.”

The guard curled his lips when he mentioned Caius’s army and Mollie didn’t miss the judgment in his tone. 

Caius had gone rather pale and Mollie noticed that it was taking every ounce of strength for him to keep himself steady.

“I have not broken protocol Micah Lyon,” Caius said with a curt edge to his tone. “I was simply informed of an additional matter that prompted a rather abrupt change of plans.”

Micah continued to stare down at them. He was so still and blank he could have been a statue. 

“You have something of mine,” the dark haired prince said softly his eyes flickering between the two groups in an unsettling manner. “I’m here to collect it. Caius, if you would?”

Caius stiffened and Mollie could practically feel the tension in the air ascend sharply.

“You’re a little early prince.”

Micah chuckled at Caius’s chilly response and Mollie had a terrible feeling she knew what he was referring to. 

“And you’re on borrowed time.”

Mollie was afraid even the slightest movement would be lethal and before she could register her own actions she was reaching into her hip so slip her fingers around her dagger.

“Gentleman.”

This tone came from behind and Mollie jumped as the Marchesseault guard came forward, his horse only metres away from where Mollie and her group stood.

“Your business is your own. We are here for the girl and the girl only. It is not our intention to spill a drop of blood.” His eyes flickered to Caius. “Though with that bounty still on your head you’d make a pauper rich.” He looked back at the winter prince. “That bounty was dead or alive if I’m not mistaken?”

Mollie felt her heart pound as Micah’s expression turned stony. 

“Oh dear,” he murmured his gaze gluing back to Caius. “It appears we are in the midst of a little… quandary.”

Mollie heard rather than saw the guards behind her unsheathe their swords the moment the prince finished his sentence.

Zen managed to scramble to his feet shoving the grip of the guards off of him. 

Zephyr turned to his father but before the boy could speak Caius had already turned to him – his expression angry. 

“I told you not to come.”

“You needed us.”

“You disobeyed me.”

Caius’ tone was blunt and harsh and Mollie froze as Zephyr flexed his fists.

“You disobeyed me,” Caius repeated turning his head to the other side. “And now we’ll have to face the consequences.”

The blood continued to seep from Caius’ torso, the arrow bearing the infamous Lyon insignia shining shamelessly on the edge of the bow buried deep into pale flesh. He turned away from his son to face the winter prince.

“The terms remain the same winter prince,” Caius said tonelessly. His knees buckled slightly as he rose to his feet. 

Micah was quiet for a long time and Mollie could hear the unease spread through the Marchesseault guards behind them. They were growing impatient.

“Hartley wants me alive.”

Caius’ voice was like a whip through the air and Mollie cringed as Micah stared down at his uncle. 

“He may – but I don’t.” Micah’s voice had a playful lilt to it and Mollie felt sick. “And rest assured I’ll bring you or your corpse back to Questershire.”

Caius grinned humourlessly.

“He’ll know…” Caius trailed off. “Your sadism is not unknown boy.”

“There is a fine line between sadism and pragmatism Caius,” Micah murmured, his tone icy. “Father is aware of this.”

“And what about mother dearest? ”

There was a silence that followed and Mollie watched in fear as Micah’s expression stiffened ever so slightly. 

“It’s a shame she won’t be there to greet me with open arms. I know she would’ve. She adored me. More than your father I dare say.”

Mollie knew what Caius was doing. He was trying to crack Micah’s exterior but she knew Micah didn’t operate that way. If anything, it reinforced his barrier and only served to irritate him further. And irritated Micah was danger on a whole other level. 

“You look like her,“ Caius said softly as Micah’s eyes bore into his uncles. “Spitting image…. soft lips, slender nose, those high cheekbones.” He stopped for a moment. “Those green eyes.” 

Micah was all but a statue and Mollie saw a flicker of unease spread through the guards behind him. 

“I’m sure you miss her,” Caius continued. 

Mollie shifted uneasily at how much like Hartley Caius had suddenly become. She knew how much Micah hated his father. She suddenly felt a fear in her gut for Caius. He was unknowingly playing a very dangerous game. 

“In fact, I know you do.” Caius didn’t mention Mollie but she felt as if her name had been shouted across the grassy landscape as Micah’s eyes flickered to hers for the first time that evening. The coldness that radiated from them made Mollie want to dig her own grave. 

“Micah.”

The prince turned his gaze to Caius and Mollie saw the first remnants of hatred begin to creep into his expression. 

She was beginning to panic. She could feel the adrenaline spiking in her gut. Caius was too close to the prince, in close enough distance for him to throw that despicable blade into the Leader of the Insurgency. 

Before Mollie could step forward and intervene a warm calloused hand wrapped tightly around her waist jerking her against a tall strong body. She protested as Zephyr shook his head at her slowly and turned his gaze to the show in front of them. 

“Don’t say a word,” he whispered leaning down so his lips brushed her ear. She didn’t know if it was deliberate or not but she squirmed in Zen’s grasp nonetheless. 

“Micah will kill him,” she protested whispering harshly. It was impossible to move with the grip Zephyr had around her waist. 

“A word of advice,” Zen hissed. “Never run in between a fight between family. That’s how accidents happen Mollie.” His grip only tightened the more she struggled. “This is a formal negotiation,” he whispered harshly. “They _won’t_ engage in battle. It is against royal protocol.”

She slowed and dropped her protest with a huff. 

This seemed to catch Micah’s attention and she saw a certain iciness take over his expression as they flickered between herself and Zephyr. Zen only crushed Mollie closer to himself as she squirmed against his unyielding grip. 

Micah simply turned his head elegantly back to Caius. 

“You seem to be missing a member of your entourage,” Micah said pleasantly, his arms returning to clasp behind his back. 

Caius frowned, his blue eyes appraising Micah slowly. 

“What was his name again? I seem to have forgotten.”

Micah turned his head to a guard who was standing slightly behind him and looked at him as if in question. 

The guard murmured something softly and Micah smiled as if in soft remembrance. 

_“Ah oui,”_ he said with a chuckle. _“Isaac c’est ça?”_

Caius went ram rod straight and Mollie gulped as Zephyr’s tight grip began to tighten further. 

“That’s quite bold, even for you Caius to send one of your own and dearest straight into the lions den.”

There was a chuckle and murmur that ensued behind the prince and Mollie cringed. She had unintentionally shouted his name that day in the dungeons with Micah. This was her fault. Micah didn’t keep Isaac alive because she had begged him to. He had kept the boy alive the moment he figured out who he was. It was an opportunity the prince had seized and used to his advantage. 

Much like he always did. 

“Every drop of Lyon blood that is spilled is a waste,” Micah continued his voice taking on a sharper tone. “I will gladly return him to you if you uphold your side of the transaction.”

“Slow down boy,” Caius sneered when he spoke. 

Micah was stoic, unperturbed by Caius’ chilly response. 

“I want proof of life before I agree to anything further with you.” 

Micah laughed. 

“Of course,” he said with a plastered smile.

He stepped to the side as two guards, one of whom Mollie recognized immediately as one from the Questershire dungeons pushed a light haired boy to the ground as he groaned in pain.

Mollie could feel Zephyr’s grip on her waist tighten painfully. The boy looked awful, his hair plastered to his forehead, his skin pale and waxy, and his _fingers…_

Mollie turned away, her lunch threatening to make a re-appearance.

Zen was shaking. She could feel his anger radiating off of him in waves.

_Isaac. Poor poor Isaac._

“Release him.”

Caius tone has gone stiff and dangerous and Mollie watched as Micah stared him down. His gloved fingers were clasped elegantly in front of him as if they were simple discussing pleasantries at the dinner table. 

“You heard the man,” Micah said softly turning to the guard beside him.

In a rather violent manner the guard shoved the boy down from the high elevated ground – his limp body hitting the ground in sickening crunches before he reached the bottom in a crumpled heap.

Mollie recognized those light curly blond locks. She remembered the last time she had seen him – sometime in Questershire Manor.

_He was okay. He was breathing – barely so – but he was alive._

Mollie looked on in horror as Julien and Caden rushed forward to drag the boy towards them, across the expanse of no-man’s land till he lay sprawled on the grassy floor beside Araya and Joël.

Micah watched emotionlessly, several others guards standing behind him as they watched alongside their prince the proceedings take place.

Micah turned to Caius swiftly. 

“A deal is a deal.”

Micah’s voice was icy as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes on Caius.

Caius said nothing as his eyes flickered from Micah to Isaac to Mollie. 

Mollie felt her throat constrict as Caius began to weigh his options carefully.

Mollie already knew what he wanted. It was no secret and Caius’ hesitation pierced Mollie to the core. He could easily hand her over and keep his son happily without a care in the world. 

“Prince Micah,” Caius said crisply making sure to hold all formalities. “Perhaps we can further discuss this. The child-”

“There is nothing further to discuss,” Micah said in a sharp tone. “It will be born on Lyon land. That was the deal.”

Caius’s lips twitched.

“And Mollie-“

“We’ll discuss her predicament following the birth.”

Micah’s cold bottomless gaze bore into Caius. 

“It is unbecoming to re-negotiate terms that have already been set isn’t it…Caius.”

Caius frowned – his frustration evident. 

Micah’s no-nonsense attitude was clear and Mollie could see Caius immediately back off. They were outnumbered anyway. Micah had brought a humungous Lyon army behind him. They stood no chance.

“She’s… _pregnant?”_

The voice from behind them was from the Marchesseault guard and Mollie could see the astonishment flash across his features.

He turned to Caius in an instant and Mollie could see his sword unsheathe immediately.

He pushed his way past Zen and Mollie sending her careening forward on her aching knees before a sharp hiss punctured the still air. 

Before Mollie could scream a harsh grunt from behind sent her jolting forward as something warm and wet splashed against the back of her neck. 

Mollie knew what it was before she turned to see the leader of the small Marchesseault guard panting on the ground as he clutched his shoulder in pain.

Zen had his grip on her as she regained her balance – the warm splash of blood creating a thin uncomfortable sensation on the back of her neck. 

“You _treacherous scum,”_ the guard yelled as he muttered a slur of other phrases in French as he writhed on the ground.

Zephyr had curled his fingers around Mollie’s wrist and she turned to the winter prince frightfully. His expression was one of absolute abhorrence.

“You touch her again, the next arrow to hit you will be in the space between your eyes.”

Micah’s voice had gone quiet and severe and Mollie shuddered at the blank expression on his face.

“Caius,” he said turning to the blond man beside them. “Proceed.”

The guards in red retracted slightly as they watched their leader writhe in pain on the ground – the arrow from the Lyons embedded snugly in the space between where shoulder and arm met. 

Caius was shaking almost imperceptibly. Mollie could see from her position and she felt a fear clutch at her heart.

The groan emitting from the curly blond boy crumpled on the ground snapped Mollie out of her position of fear and she watched as Zephyr scrambled forward towards his brother. 

She caught Caius’ eyes suddenly-- blue meeting brown for the briefest of seconds. In that small moment of confusion – the smallest little distraction provided an opportunity – an opportunity the Insurgency had created for _her._ To anybody else it could have been a glance but Mollie knew better than that. Her training had prepared her for this – her ability to sense something awry on and off the battle field. 

Her eyes were welling with tears but she knew what she had to do. Even if it meant leaving behind the only family she had ever truly known.

As Zen lurched over towards his brother – his massive frame blocking Mollie’s figure for a second, she seized her opportunity. Her frame was blocked for seconds and in those precious seconds she spun around and acted.

The empty saddled horse from where the leader of the Marchesseault army had fallen had a sturdy leg holder which proved useful for Mollie’s now larger than normal frame. She attributed much of her strength to the adrenaline spiking her system as she propelled herself forward jumping up onto the horse. Swinging her dagger free from her back-pocket she cut loose the attachment of the horse to its owners uniform and lashed the reigns as the horse took off.

She gasped as her belly pressed painfully against the saddle but didn’t stop. Not even when an arrow whizzed past her ear – missing only by inches.

She heard the yell of the winter prince as he shouted for his guards to cease fire.

Mollie didn’t look back – she couldn’t -- but she could hear the sound of two other horses beside her. She was scared at first but the formation behind her was one reflective of a protective -- not an offensive stance. To her relief, she realized they were protecting her from any further threat from behind. She could hear sword against sword clashing behind her and she prayed to every God she knew that no blood would be spilled. Not tonight. Not again. Not because of her.

The sounds grew softer and softer as she urged the horse faster – her belly clenching with a pain that radiated from her abodmen to her head. 

Her vision was blurring but she had to persevere. The wrought iron gates that marked the entrance to the city of _Peréal_ couldn’t have come sooner and soon as they opened and Mollie crossed the threshold – she released her breath.

_She made it. She was safe here._

The winter prince could not touch her – not within the Marchesseault’s regime.

As Mollie urged the horse farther Mollie caught sight of something that made the blood drain from her face.

In front of her was a sea of red – an army of guards.

They had opened the gates for her and in a moment of utter astonishment Mollie realized they had been waiting for her.

Whatever Alexandre Marchesseault wanted with her was imperative. He had sent out his own fucking army. Just for _her._

The sounds of steel against steel and arrows whizzing through the air was just a whisper in the wind now and Mollie felt the tears roll down her cheeks.

_Micah._

Wherever he was – it was impossible to see him now. His presence had brought back so many emotions and Mollie no longer knew how to differentiate one from the other. 

As the horse came to a slow Mollie noticed the soft breeze and gentle ambiance around her. This was not like the harsh conditions of either _Anubis_ or _Icedalar._ This place _seemed_ warm – inviting – hospitable. The threats were not immediately apparent – not that Mollie would have been able to defend her self now. Her knuckles were numb from clutching the reigns so tightly and as the horse came to an immediate stop in front of a sea of red Mollie felt her vision darken.

Her thoughts couldn’t stray away from the others – the ones she had left behind.

_Caius._

_Isaac._

_Zephyr._

They had done this for her. So she could escape. 

Mollie did not know what their intentions for her were? Was she supposed to make it to _Peréal?_ Was she meant to escape somewhere else? 

She did not know. But for now she could do nothing but let the darkness blocking her vision slowly take over as she slid off the horse and fell to her knees.

She was being surrounded by people from a city she had never been to – from a city she did not know.

And whatever they wanted with her could potentially be threatening. She knew this somewhere at the back of her mind. Why else would they want her so badly? But Caius wouldn’t send her to her death would he?

She had yet to find out.

***

Mollie’s eyes blinked open in shock.

The first thing she felt was a tingly feeling in her arm. In horror she could hear the steady drip of water beside her as she blinked rapidly to clear her hazy vision.

A series of tubes were attached to her arms and the soft drip of liquid hitting liquid was coming from a clear packet beside her.

She was moving – soft grey blankets wrapped around her tightly as she looked around her in fear. 

The bed had wheels and she appeared to be mobile – two people beside her pushed her down a corridor.

_Was she on a stretcher?_

The walls around her were foreign – the language foreign – the people foreign. It was almost too much for Mollie to take in and she could feel the air begin to escape her lips in a series of rapid breaths. The walls were made of grey stone and the floors an expensive dark wood. 

_“Mademoiselle, vous avez besoin de respirer.”*_

The voice beside her was sharp and Mollie moaned in pain as her head swam.

“Where are you taking me?” she gasped – her belly heaving with her breaths as she struggled to breathe air into her lungs.

_Her babies._

She clutched her belly tightly. She hadn’t felt movement in quite some time and she felt her throat constrict. It had been unusually long and Mollie felt a fear creep up her spine. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt them.

 _“Mademoiselle,”_ the woman said again – her voice stricter. _“Respirer. S’il vous plait.”*_

Mollie screamed as the woman pushed her down – her questions going unanswered as she writhed against the restraints around her wrists and ankles.

_“They’re not moving. They’re not moving.”_

She kept crying and screaming as the people beside her pushed her forward – past dark corridor after dark corridor as she cried helplessly.

_“Elle est là?”*_

This voice was male and Mollie felt her voice break as she screamed her voice hoarse.

They ignored her – as if her distress was nothing but a mere inconvenience.

_“Il veut la voir. Maintenant.”*_

_“Maintenant?”*_ said the woman beside her with surprise.

Mollie looked between them in shock.

_“Oui.” The man said simply. “Immédiatement.”_

She was in a different outfit from the one she had worn earlier. It was a pretty red dress – long sleeved and warm. But her dagger – her weapon was gone from its place at her hip. They had stripped her of everything – including the necklace the winter prince had given her around her neck.

_“Par ici, dans la salle du Trône.”*_

As they wheeled Mollie around fancy corridors decorated with paintings and rich ornaments that were foreign to her she was wheeled to a slow stop in front of a fancy wooden door.

The woman and the men unclipped her restraints swiftly and Mollie stared at the two people before her as they stood her up carefully and ushered her towards the door.

_“Le Roi attend depuis longtemps de vous voir…comme nous.”*_

Mollie just stared at them – her face tear stained and her cheeks flushed dark from her exertion.

The doors swung open as Mollie stared numbly at what awaited her.

Not so different from the courts in _Questershire_ and _Icedalar_ the room was grand. There was something rustic about the style and Mollie stared wide eyed as several eyes turned to stare at her.

But Mollie’s eyes were drawn to a more commanding presence. At the end of the hall was a man in a chair – a man whose eyes locked with hers the minute the doors of the grand throne room opened. 

Mollie could do nothing but stare as their eyes locked.

She could hear a series of gasps surround her from the few other members in the room but Mollie didn't pay it too much attention. She was too enthralled by a different more domineering presence. 

She knew he was. She could tell from his position – his clothing – his stance.

_His Majesty Alexandre Marchesseault._

She hadn’t moved from her spot at the entrance to the grand hall. She could no longer feel the dried blood caked on the back of her neck – but the pain radiating from the cuts on her knuckles – the pain in her belly. That hurt more than anything she could remember.

“Please.” 

It was the only word she was able to conjure as images of her friends – her family – the people she had been forced to leave behind in a mess of sword against sword all but consumed her thoughts.

The shift in her belly caused her to curl inwards and though it hurt – it brought a surge of relief over her.

_They were alive._

The man continued to stare down at her from his throne. His features were chiselled and elegant and touched by the first remnants of age. He was still rather young for a King – his dark locks still lush with colour and his features locked into an expression of perpetual scrutiny. And his eyes. Pale brown eyes that mirrored her own.

He was staring and Mollie was struck by the familiarity in those pale brown eyes that stared back at her.

 _“Giselle,”_ he whispered rising from his seat.

The guards all turned towards her and Mollie felt a strange feeling form in her stomach.

Mollie’s lips parted. The man seemed frustrated – almost apprehensive and before Mollie could retreat she felt a strong grasp grip her forearm from behind and guide her forward.

 _“C’est vraiment vous?”_ the King whispered. 

Mollie’s attempts to break free were futile and she froze as the King stepped down from his throne to stand before her. He waved the guards off of her the minute she began fussing.

He was incredibly tall. Mollie wanted to guess maybe even around James’ height and she recoiled at his closeness as he approached her.

He was calm with his movements and when he looked down at her with a shimmer in his eyes Mollie found herself becoming more and more stunned.

“Please,” she repeated.

He seemed enthralled to hear her speak and as Mollie shut her eyes in fear she felt a warm caress against her tear stained cheek.

“You’ve returned,” he said softly a smile breaking across his features that brought back a surge of youth to his features. “You have come home.”

***

Everything was a blurry haze of grey walls and unfamiliar faces.

It was as if Mollie was a zombie brought back to life somehow as she was bathed (again), fed, and seen to by a doctor.

Those around her seemed to quickly pick up on her limited French and she felt a surge of relief knowing that they were also competent with English.

Before long she was being surrounded by guards and guided towards a quaint but warm room with a fire and a table of _petits hoeur d'oeuvres._

Mollie was still as she was seated gently into a chair across from the King of _Peréal._

He nodded at his guards as he whisked them away with a soft wave of his fingers.

Suddenly those pale brown eyes turned to hers and Mollie felt her stomach clench.

“There must be some mistake.”

Her voice was hoarse and raspy from her screams but the man did not seem to care. He had a soft almost longing expression on his face that made Mollie squirm in her chair.

Mollie tensed as his eyes glued to hers – an exact replica of her own.

“No. The winds do not lie. I felt your presence for some time. I always knew you’d find your way back. A Marchessault always does.”

Mollie frowned.

He hesitated for a moment, his rich red velvety cloak brushing the steps as he perched elegantly on the chaise across from Mollie. He was drinking in her features with each wash of his eyes on her. It made Mollie tingle with unease. She didn't know him.

“It pleases me that you are so well – so strong.”

Mollie said nothing as his eyes shone with an emotion Mollie hadn’t seen in a man for quite some time.

“Where is Caius?” she spat. “Where are the others who were with me.”

 _“Patience ma fille,”_ he said softly. “We’ll address that later.”

Mollie shook her head and glared at the man in front of her. 

“How is she? Bianca?”

The question threw her and Mollie felt her lips part in surprise.

_Bianca._

It was a name she hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.

Bianca Mayeson. Her mother. 

The shock must have registered on her face and she saw the tall man smile knowingly.

“I miss her oh so much,” he murmured. “Seeing you is like…seeing her in a way.”

Her lips were parted in shock and she stared at him for a second longer.

“I…I…I don’t understand….”

“Does she still dance?” he murmured. “She was a wonderful dancer. She had the most lovely shaped legs. She danced for me the first time I ever laid my eyes on her.”

Mollie said nothing. She couldn’t find the words in her quite yet. 

As the minutes ticked by Mollie was piecing everything together.

She didn’t want to believe it. Not like this. But those eyes – were indisputably hers staring back at her. The nose, the soft forehead, the lips – that dark brown hair.

She remembered her mothers words as if Bianca Mayeson were right beside her then. Her mothers’ slender fingers digging into her skin as she leaned her chin against Mollie’s shoulder.

_“He was tall like you. And with those same eyes. Those pale brown orbs.”_

“How is she?”

The Kings’ voice was a soft pleasant inviting sound. It sounded like liquid honey but softer. Like a caress of soft fingers against fleece. But Mollie was not in the mood to be enticed nor persuaded.

Mollie felt her shock disappear and its place grew another emotion. An emotion that sent her fists flexing and her breathing ragged. How _dare_ he ask her. He had all the time in the world to search for her. All the money, everything. Yet he didn’t raise a single finger.

“You don’t deserve to know,” she whipped out. 

Her dark brown eyes rippled with anger as they faced off against those across from her. These ones looked back at her with nothing but congeniality. It almost angered her more. 

Quite surprisingly Alexandre smiled. 

“My my you are just like her,” he said with a grin. “You are Bianca’s daughter no doubting that.”

His voice was full of warmth and amiability. 

“Why didn’t you come?” she whispered – her anger dissipating as quickly as it arrived. “Nineteen years…you never came.”

Alexandre frowned. 

For the first time Mollie saw sadness creep into his features. She still had her reservations about the man -- the man she had convinced herself a day ago that she hated. But now that she knew who he was – she struggled to find it within her to do so.

“It is not the way of our peoples,” he said quietly.

Mollie’s vision blurred with tears.

“Not even for your own child?” she whipped out her fists curling. 

Alexandre breathed deeply.

“No. It would be hypocritical of me to do so as King. And as I told you before _Giselle_ , a Marchesseault will find its way back to its kingdom. Regardless of whatever circumstances they find themselves in.”

Mollie scoffed.

“You put a lot of faith all right,” she hissed straightening up in the chair and blinking the tears away. If he was angry he didn’t show it. He just stared placidly at her. His calmness irked her even more.

“And my name is _Mollie._ Mollie Mayeson.”

The name seemed to trigger something within him and Mollie saw his face flush.

“That’s what she named you?” he said an air of disgust in his voice. _“Cette putain,”_ he muttered under his breath.

Mollie ignored him and turned towards the door.

“Wait. Just for a moment...daughter.”

Mollie felt her throat swell up at the term.

“Our discussion is not yet complete.”

He had eyed her belly several times already but he didn’t yet comment on it and Mollie was relieved. It was a discussion she did not want to have to explain just yet. 

“I have waited so long for you to return. I had imagined this moment day after day. When I caught wind that you were alive – and out of the Lyon Regime I knew immediately I had to bring you home. You have been the only thing on my mind since the day I lost you. I've waited almost two decades for you my dear.”

Mollie turned her gaze back to him – her tears temporarily blinding her.

“Well I guess you’re going to have wait just a little bit longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates and happy holidays. What a year it has been lol. But I hope we all come out of it much stronger. Cheers xx
> 
> Translations in Order:
> 
> *Miss, you have to breathe
> 
> *Breathe. Please.*
> 
> *Is she here?
> 
> *He wants to see her. Now*
> 
> *Now?
> 
> *Here. In the Throne Room*
> 
> *The King has waited a long time to see you...much like ourselves.


	42. Molybdène

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie learns a life changing secret about her past. A guest at dinner throws the Marchesseaults in disarray.

There was a coldness here that wasn’t apparent in the other realms of royalty Mollie had visited. It wasn’t a physical coldness – but a foreign disingenuine apathy that seemed to radiate through every royal staff member Mollie had the privilege of crossing paths with.

It didn’t take her long to figure it out. 

_Her pregnancy. Her belly._

It was an enormous unspoken truth that the king – her father-- had yet to address. Mollie had been avoiding him for as long as she could ever since her first meeting with him. Her emotions were in a spiral of confusion and distress. Her heart ached for Caius and Zephyr. Not knowing whether they were alright _consumed_ her and Mollie did nothing but pace her grand quarters for two straight days – screaming – raging – crying. It was all a cycle – a cycle she didn’t see herself breaking out of anytime soon. 

Micah’s cold merciless gaze was etched into her mind. She knew what he was capable of. 

Mollie didn’t want to think of a scenario without them – her family – Araya – Jöel – even Caden. Those months of training had been hard on her but they solidified a soft spot in her heart as well. 

The staff in this place were not warm to her like the others has been. They weren’t skilled and meticulous like Esperanza, or warm, kind and pure like Cécily. They were stony and reluctant. They were seeing to Mollie because they _had_ to – not because they cared for her. They didn’t see her as their own. That much was obvious. She wondered what Alexandre had done to force them to obey. 

She did not have to wonder for too long though. 

Her arms had been marred by scratch marks during the many fits of rage she experienced over the past forty eight hours. They were raw and tender to the touch and her nose hurt from where the Marchesseault staff had stuffed a tube down her throat just to get her to eat and drink. It had been traumatic and Mollie was still reeling from the treatment.

The rich opulence around her did nothing for Mollie. She cared for none of it – preferring even to lie on the cold stony floor and sleep rather than in the large four poster bed that took up a significant portion of the room. She would have preferred a cot – or even her little bed back in her apartment in _Chartery._ The one near the window that carried the noisiness of the city bustle into her room and made it impossible for her to sleep. 

She didn’t want anyone to touch her. She just wanted to be protected – shielded and hidden from all that had happened in the last seventy-two hours or so.

She wanted her mother.

Mollie squeezed her eyes shut as she curled her arms around her body, the constant swell of her abdomen had become a chronic everlasting pain to her lithe frame. She focused on the memories of her mother – the good memories. The ones where her mother was of sound mind. When she’d come up behind Mollie and place her chin on her shoulder – brush her warm fingers through Mollie's thick curls – wrap her up in a soft embrace when their apartment got too cold in the winter so they could feed off each others warmth. Those moments were few but they were there and Mollie clung to them like fire in a snow desert. As motherhood crept up on her achingly quickly – she found herself wanting to be close to her _own_ mother. It was a strange feeling.

The more Mollie contemplated these thoughts the less she felt she knew her mother. She had never asked her mother about her past – except to ask about her father. She had never taken the time to ask her mother about her childhood – _why_ she was the way that she was.

The more Mollie thought about these things – the harder her tears fell. She never knew if she’d ever get that opportunity again. Why hadn’t she worried about her mother more than she had? Putting food on the table and ensuring a roof over their heads was not enough. She should have done something. She should have spoken. She should have done _so_ much more than she had. 

The guilt that filled her was overpowering.

The soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and Mollie blinked her eyes open blearily. It was not so different from the one she had heard the day before and the day before that.

She was lying on the stony ground, her curls splayed out around her. Her belly heaved from her abdomen – the weight becoming a burden for Mollie to carry around. She was checked everyday by a doctor – the pills forced down her throat much like her food. 

Her throat hurt from all the tears she had shed and her fingers and wrists were sore to the touch.

She sat up slowly as the door opened. She wasn’t surprised when the door unlocked and the person she wanted to see least walked in, his expensive garments sweeping the floor.

Her father’s brown eyes flickered to the bed and back to her on the ground. He kept his emotions carefully hidden but Mollie sensed something else there. Frustration? Anger? Concern? She couldn’t quite tell.

His tall sturdy frame was complimented beautifully by a long red velvet cloak – the colour capturing the splendour of such an effulgent garment. His light brown locks curled lightly around his ears as he slowly took in the subfuscous ambiance around the room. 

“My late wife used to lie on the ground while she was pregnant,” he said softly as if Mollie’s position splayed out on the cold stone was the most normal thing he had seen. “She claimed the shift in gravity calmed her babe.” He paused for a second. “She used to decorate the castle with white flowers in anticipation for the birth. It’s an old royal tradition that used to be done in the past,” he said waving his hand away as if it were a paltry custom. 

Mollie didn’t respond. Her silence did not deter the King and he simply continued walking around the room slowly. His cloak caught the sun filtering in through the fancy carved windows. It caught the gems embedded in his cloak and Mollie watched as they shimmered with each step he took around the room.

“I was sixteen when I married her,” he murmured. “She was thirty six.” He didn’t wear gloves like Micah and the rest of the Lyons and he didn’t carry around a sword with him. But he had lots of jewellery. It was almost overwhelming how many gems decorated the mans slim fingers. She remembered suddenly what Luna had told her. The Marchesseault regime was a mining empire – of course. 

Mollie had only been half listening before but as he continued to muse on she lifted her head up.

“My father – your grandfather,” he continued. “He arranged it all before he passed. He had everything planned out. His present, his future… I swear if he could, the man would have even attempted to re-write his past.”

Mollie couldn’t quite decipher his tone. It wasn’t fond but it wasn’t bitter either. He was placid. 

“People think we are free to do what we want in this position. But if anything, we are slaves to the people. At the end of the day they are the ones who truly decide our fate.”

He had walked close enough for Mollie to reach out and touch him had she wanted to. His accent was strong. Much stronger than the Lyons and Mollie realized he must not have spoken English in quite some time. 

“As much as it pains me to tell you this – it is my duty as a King and as a father to do so.”

Mollie was quiet as the man bent down towards her.

Carefully he placed his palm to cup her cheek in a gesture all too familiar to Mollie.

“Don’t do this daughter,” he murmured squeezing her cheek lightly. “Work with me—not against me. This kingdom needs you as much as I do.”

Mollie sighed. 

“They don’t even know me,” she protested wiping the trails of tears down her face. “They don’t _want_ to know me.”

Her father sighed perching elegantly against the edge of the massive bed.

“They can’t if you won’t let them.”

Mollie sniffled, her tears drying to become a sticky sheen against her cheeks. 

“I’m an outsider to them.”

To her surprise Mollie watched as her father proceeded to lean forward and sit down on the cold floor beside her.

“You are as of now.” His candour baffled her. But Mollie preferred it regardless of how much it hurt her. “You’ll have to work hard for them to see you as fit to be a part of this monarchy. And as of now, the odds are highly stacked against you.”

Mollie had a feeling he was referring to not only her unconventional royal upbringing – but her pregnancy as well.

He let out a tired sigh as his long legs splayed out beside Mollie’s.

“Give me your hand.”

Mollie looked at him in confusion. She would have preferred to have continued her silent treatment but the look of fatigue on Alexandre’s face prompted her to obey. 

Carefully she placed her hand in his. He squeezed it comfortingly --almost achingly-- before sliding a small gem off of his own finger. Without waiting for a response he slid the gem onto the pinky finger of Mollie’s left hand. 

_“Giselle.”_ Mollie looked up at him – his soft voice soothing and filling the spacious room. “This belonged to _Giselle Valentino – ma mère – ton grandmére.”_

Mollie reddened as she realized the gravity of the name he yearned to pass on to her. He continued to play with her fingers as he admired the gem on Mollie’s bare hand. 

_“Malheuresement,”_ he mused suddenly breaking the brief silence. “I had no daughters to pass this on to during my early reign as King.” He looked at her warmly as Mollie admired the simple but elegant rose gold band that surrounded her pinky. “But God reminded me of a gift I thought I had lost.”

There was a long silence between the two of them. This silence was heavy – heavy with the years they had lost together. Years that were spent with Mollie struggling to survive in a world that favoured the rich and punished the impecunious.

“She’s not well.”

Mollie murmured as her father continued to toy with her fingers. It was as if he were memorizing them – sealing the texture – the shape –the complexion into his mind. 

He paused, his breath catching as well. 

“I’m…I’m sorry to hear that.”

His voice was still so soft – so languid. 

“I always wondered why she hated the monarchy,” Mollie continued. “I always thought she was bitter because she wasn’t like them.”

“Like who sweet girl?” her father murmured.

“Like the quaternary citizens,” Mollie hissed. She flexed her fists and she felt her father’s touch pause. 

“How much did Bianca tell you?”

Mollie looked at him but his eyes were focused on her fingers. 

_Nothing. She told me nothing because half the time she was fucking some stranger in the apartment._

Mollie hesitated. She didn’t want to speak ill of her mother. And by the sounds of it – Alexandre and herself were talking about completely different people.

Her father reached for something in his cloak pocket and Mollie watched as an old crumpled photograph was removed. 

Mollie gasped as her father smoothed the photo down to reveal the faces of two smiling individuals.

Mollie blinked away the fresh surge of tears that brimmed her eyes as she touched the photograph.

 _“Mémére and Pépére,”_ Mollie whispered. The smiling faces of her grandparents staring back at her.

Mollie stiffened when she saw the photograph.

_Hold on. This was from the bakery. It was one of the only photographs she had of her grandparents. How did he…_

“Where…How did you get this?”

Her father smiled softly.

_“C’est ton grandmére et grandpére oui?”_

Mollie just stared at him.

“You really think I just up and left the only heir I had to my throne nineteen years ago?”

Mollie didn’t know what to say. She was burning with questions now. She tried to remember the last time she had seen this photograph.

It had been the day she received the letter – exactly two weeks before she boarded that train that changed her life forever. 

_Had it been a coincidence that the Insurgency found her? Had they known ever since?_

Mollie felt her chest constrict as she replayed those moments over and over again. She hadn’t thought about it. She hadn’t considered it. 

She stilled.

_There had been a man. A man who had entered the bakery. A man in a long tan trench coat. He had stared at the photo before he asked for the owner._

“You sent him,” Mollie said through unmoving lips. “It had been you…not the Lyons.”

Her fathers expression remained grim but Mollie knew he had much more to tell.

_“Olivier and Ruelle Marchesseault.”_

Mollie’s head snapped up. 

_“Olivier?”_ she whispered.

Her father nodded. 

“My elder brother,” her father explained quietly. “He married a commoner. My father banished him from the realm after he did so and left him and his wife to raise his twin sons in the middle of the desert. The Ophians were overthrowing their monarchy at the time. It was a miracle they were able to escape.”

Her father’s voice had gone more quiet as he spoke and the more Mollie listened to it – the more soothing it sounded to her.

“I asked my brother only one favour,” the King murmured, “And that was for him to find Bianca and bring her to me. She had been banished from her realm you see, and the country side was the only place for outcasts like them. It was free land at the time. A place to start fresh.”

Mollie felt sick as she thought about it.

_Free land before the Lyons came and took it over for themselves._

Mollie took a deep breath as she followed the words of her father.

“My mother,” Mollie whispered. She swallowed thickly before she continued. “She…she was royalty too?”

Her father looked at her, his brown eyes warm.

“She was. Bianca Rineaux of the Rineaux Empire. Youngest daughter of Onald and Gertrude Rineaux.”

Mollie brought her hands to her forehead as she sunk her fingers into her thick curls. She could herself moaning as she took in this new information.

“No..No...that’s impossible. No. This…this _can’t_ be right.”

Her mother was Bianca. Bianca the whore. Everyone knew it. He was _wrong._

“She was.”

Her father’s voice was blunt when he spoke. 

“I don’t understand,” Mollie moaned yanking her curls so hard her scalp burned. “Mum hated the monarchy. She _hated_ it. She couldn’t stand even mentioning it.”

“I suppose she was bitter,” Alexandre said quietly. “I don’t blame for her that.” His voice had a lilt to it that caught Mollie’s ear. “But I do blame her for hiding you from me.”

Mollie was pressing her fingers to her temples in circular motions. This was too much. Her entire life had been a lie from the start. Her existence seemed to predicate on the secrecies of one monarchy to another. It made her sick to her stomach as much as it fuelled her lividity. She never had a say -- from the moment she was conceived. 

“You’re warm,” her father said suddenly brushing his fingers against her forehead. “It might be best to continue this conversation when you are better –“

Before he could get up Mollie had lurched forward holding her belly as she stared down her father.

“Why was she banished?” Mollie hissed. “What did you _do_ to her to make her into the person she became?”

Her father turned away from her – his gaze instead resting on the window.

Mollie knew. She knew what he had done. It was written all over his face. She knew those expressions too well at this point in time. 

_Guilt._

_Regret._

_Bitterness._

His silence angered her. It was the first time he had looked away from her when she confronted him and Mollie knew that guilt would never fully go away. He had carried it with him for nineteen years.

“You had no right.”

Her voice was just a whisper at this point. She couldn’t even stop the tremor that rocked her tone as she spoke. 

“I…tried to fix it,” her father said softly. “I tried to right my wrongs. Each and every one of them.” His voice was stiff as he spoke. “I’m not proud of what I did. I’m not proud of the person I was. But I like to think I have become a better man. Fault me as you will daughter. But rest assured I won’t stop trying.”

Mollie sniffed as she wiped her tears away. 

“I had lost contact with my brother a year or two after your birth. Olivier and Ruelle thought it best to raise you...especially during those first few years. They told me Bianca was not well. It was a difficult delivery and she had always been rather…impetuous.”

Her father’s voice had regained its soft tone again. It was so lulling and calming. 

“But after the invasion I..I didn’t know what had happened. Whether you were alive or not. You and Bianca went completely off the map.”

The strain in his voice hurt Mollie deeply. She knew he was telling the truth.

“The Lyon regime is gargantuan. You could have been anywhere. For years I tried to pick up on something -- _some_ kind of lead that could tell me something about your whereabouts. But I supposed Bianca was bitter. She kept you hidden away from me as a punishment. I’m _sure_ of it.”

His tone had turned caustic and Mollie flinched as he continued.

“But I always knew you were alive. I could feel it.”

He stood up after this, his frame blocking out the late afternoon sun filtering in through the window. It was molten red – as if it kissed the volcanoes before reaching out into the sea blue blanket of the sky. 

The fierceness in his voice was intransigent and Mollie bit her lip as her father approached her.. He placed his hands softly on her shoulders as he looked down at her. 

“You are a Marchesseault. The blood of this empire runs through your veins. The fight within us is _strong.”_

Mollie looked up at him – brown eyes mirroring brown eyes. 

Mollie wanted to say something – anything to keep him speaking. For so long she had wanted answers. And now that she was getting them she couldn’t stop. Not now.

“About the baby,” Mollie whispered, feeling her cheeks redden. “It’s not what you think-”

“We won’t discuss it now,” the King said with a frown. “What’s most important is that it doesn’t become public which is why you will stay here in the castle till your delivery – which by the looks of it is not far off.”

Before Mollie could protest, there was a sharp knock on the door that couldn’t have come at a worse time. Mollie frowned as an older woman – one Mollie recognized as the same one that had ushered her in the first day, came around the corner. Her uniform was the same as all the others – crimson coloured with a touch of gold along the trim. 

_“Mon roi,”_ she murmured. _“Le dîner est prêt.”_

Her father nodded as if he were expecting her.

Quietly she closed the door and Mollie watched as her father elegantly dusted his cloak as he regarded Mollie firmly.

“I hope that now that you have gotten some answers, you will be a little more inclined to cooperate with me.”

Mollie exhaled.

“I do not wish for you to remain isolated in your chambers for every meal of the day.” He paused after this, his eyes flickering to land squarely on Mollie’s. “It would also be much easier if you agreed to nourish yourself willingly. It displeases me to see you rebelling against something that is integral to your health.”

He had a deep longing in his voice.

“I’m expecting a rather important guest for dinner this evening,” he murmured, the rings on his fingers glistening as he crossed them gracefully in front of his body. “It would be a good opportunity for you to join me. The sooner you learn about the political affairs of the monarchy the better.”

Mollie couldn’t help but scoff.

“I thought it wasn’t a womans place to know about political affairs.”

“You are not on Lyon soil anymore,” he said sharply. Mollie jumped at the shift in his tone. It sounded angry – almost repugnant. “We do things differently here. And you _will_ learn how things are run here. One way or the other.”

Mollie looked down when he said this. The people in this regime didn’t even regard her as one of their own. Place of birth was a fundamental aspect of status across _all_ regimes. Mollie would daresay it was _equally_ as important as blood and status. Mollie wasn’t born on Marchesseault soil – and even though the King was her father – it didn’t matter much to the people. Birthplace was essential to them. 

“If…that’s what you want,” Mollie murmured. She ran a hand through her hair, wincing as she caught several tangled strands through her fingers.

Her father nodded.

“I’ll send in one of the ladies to make you presentable,” he said softly. “There are certain dress codes, etiquette, and formalities that must be maintained during any formal meeting with another envoy, diplomat, or visitor from another regime.”

Mollie hesitated when he said this. The dress she had on was tight due to Mollie’s straining belly and she dreaded to think about what she’d be forced into this time.

“There is a lot I have planned for you my dear,” he said softly giving Mollie a warm glance. “Some of it will not be to your liking and some of it you will enjoy. But you must take the good with the bad if you are to stay here.”

Mollie stiffened.

_Who’s to say she would stay here? Was it up to her at this point?_

“If I am to introduce you as my daughter publicly, you will have to follow the rules I lay out for you. Do you understand what I’m saying _ma fille?”_

Mollie swallowed but managed a nod.

“Say it verbally,” said the King with a slow nod. “Always assert yourself orally. Nodding is a sign of ambivalence that is not customary of a royal.”

He seemed to already be throwing himself into teaching mode and Mollie cleared her throat quickly.

“Yes…I understand.”

“Very good,” her father said coolly. “You will wear what Margot picks out for you and you are to join me in the grand hall not a minute later than 8 sharp.” Her father tilted his chin down in a severe manner. “You must _not_ be late.”

Mollie was halfway through nodding before she caught herself.

“Yes Sir.”

Her father paused for a second – giving Mollie a once over with his eyes before he nodded strictly and closed the door behind him. 

Within seconds the woman Mollie saw before re-appeared. Her iron grey hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her no-nonsense persona put Mollie’s hair on end. She barely spoke to her – preferring to gesture with her head or her chin or sometimes just pulling Mollie along wordlessly. Mollie already decided she despised her.

Quite expectedly, she jutted her chin forward towards the bathing quarters and glued her hazy dark eyes to Mollie. 

With a sigh Mollie followed her.

***

Mollie sipped her water politely and looked at the other four members of the table. There were three empty seats across from her, two people on either side of her - and then her father at the head of the table with his advisor beside him. 

The tight dress she had on was stifling and uncomfortable – several sizes too small for someone who was nine months pregnant. It stretched tight against her belly as she shifted in her seat at the table. 

She tucked a delicate curl behind her ear and scowled. She had tried unsuccessfully to get her father to release Caius and the others who were being held at a compound not too far from the castle. Knowing they were alive sent a pulse of relief through Mollie. But she hated that they were being held as prisoners. Without them, Mollie would have never made it here alive. 

Despite her tantrum her father didn’t let up. If anything he was equally as severe.

When food arrived Mollie looked up at King Alexandre in confusion.

_Were they to eat without their guests?_

Her father leaned towards her. He spoke softly.

“Rarely do royal visitors eat at another’s residence,” he explained quietly. 

“Then why cook the dinner?” Mollie asked confusedly staring at the lavish food. “Seems a bit of a waste.”

“It’s a gesture of invitation,” he murmured. “You always offer to feed a visitor. Even if you know they won’t accept.”

Mollie remembered the Lyon dinner table in that moment. The dark wood. The red. The food. How no one really touched all it had to offer. It made sense to her now. Perhaps she really hasn’t understood the extent of royal appearances. How seriously they took these rules and traditions. It made her nervous. 

They ate in silence except for the occasional soft murmur from Alexandre and his advisor. The other two members at the table beside Mollie paid her little attention and she spent the time trying to swallow her meal. It was almost too rich for Mollie. She wasn’t used to the food after spending so much time eating basic essential foods for months in the desert. She could barely manage to get through a quarter. 

“You are to remain seated until I deem the dinner has ended,” her father explained. “And please,” he added rather stiffly. “Refrain from exposing your situation.”

Mollie looked up sharply. 

“My situation?” She said with a hint of defensiveness.

“Indeed,” her father sniffed. “Apart from my council and the maids, the general public is unaware that you are pregnant. I would very much like to keep it that way up to the delivery which according to the doctor is quite soon.”

Mollie didn’t know whether to feel insulted or not but she just stayed quiet. 

She hoped the night would go by quickly and uneventfully. She just wanted to sleep. She had gone through so many emotions today. She was utterly exhausted. 

As she managed to stuff another last morsel of lavish food into her mouth she heard the door open as chairs squeaked and the two members of the table beside her stood to welcome the guest. 

As Mollie looked up she felt the food turn to dry mush in her mouth as she dropped her fork to the plate with a clatter in utter shock.

 _“Ah bienvenue,”_ drawled the king as he motioned for his guests to sit. He barely glanced at Mollie. “I pray your journey was a pleasant one.”

Mollie was all but frozen. She was shaking imperceptibly. She was so unprepared -- so astonished. She hadn’t even _contemplated-_

 _“Bon soir mesdames et monsieurs._ I’m honoured to be here.”

“Micah Lyon. It is an honour to have your attendance. Please sit. Let us begin.”

***

Mollie choked a little as she struggled to swallow. 

Micah ignored her at first, the two guards behind him taking their seat on either side before he himself was seated. He looked handsome and confident as he always did at these meetings - with an air of aplomb and unparalleled elegance and charm. 

Mollie’s face was all hot as she glued her eyes to the table as Micah seated himself across from her.

“I hope your health is well,” Micah said coolly looking directly at the King.

“As good as it can be I suppose,” said her father gesturing for his advisor to pour glasses for his guests.

The Lyons accepted it and Mollie watched from beneath her thick lashes as Micah twirled the drink in his hand. The sharp scent of the whiskey hit her nose and Mollie felt a twist of nausea hit her. 

She was flabbergasted. 

How could he be so calm and collected after what had just happened days ago? It was as if he and Mollie shared no history as he sat before her father as a guest of the Marchesseault regime.

“What have you brought for me this evening Lyon prince?” Alexandre asked with a sly grin as Micah toyed with the goblet in his left hand.

“Only the best for a regime as rich as yours”

The King smiled.

“I would expect nothing less.”

Micah smirked.

“I enjoy an expectant crowd.”

Mollie looked between them quietly, their conversation seeming to hold something more beneath the layers of congeniality. 

“There have been whispers on the wind,” Alexandre said softly. “Of certain instability in what I so know as the prosperous Lyon empire.”

Micah chuckled.

“There are many whispers on the wind – much of it hot air I’m afraid. I'm sure you relate your highness.”

“To a degree” Alexandre said curtly. “I do hope you are aware, the Prince of the West paid me a visit. Mere weeks before your prospective arrival.”

_James._

Mollie gulped. 

_Why would James pay the Marchesseaults a visit? Did his brothers know? Something was up._

Micah’s face went blank for a moment before his plastered smile returned. 

“How lovely,” Micah murmured without an ounce of warmth in his tone. 

“He is quite the talker,” Alexandre chuckled. “I was _almost_ tempted. I must say…his propositions are rather…unusual.”

“You are far too modest with your choice of words,” Micah said smoothly. “I would have gone with something more... fitting. Something along the lines of unconventional? Heretical? Farcical?”

The King laughed loudly at this along with the other members of the table and Mollie cringed as the conversation continued.

“His passion is stronger than his rationale I’m afraid,” Micah murmured after the laughter had died down.

“I do hope that is not a family trait,” Alexandre said coyly.

“Not all bristles of the brush paint the same,” Micah said curtly. His tone had a hard edge to it. 

Alexandre laughed again as he drank heartily from his goblet. 

“Speaking of family,” Micah started. “You are the talk of the table these days.”

Alexandre stiffened ever so slightly and Mollie felt her face warm again. 

“Yes. This is my daughter,” Alexandre said smoothly. “Isn’t she a pretty thing?”

Mollie could feel her father’s eyes burning into hers. She had no choice. With unsuppressed anger she lifted her eyes to Micah’s and let her full fury unleash with a single glance.

It was the first time their eyes met since he watched her from the elevated hills outside the Marchesseault borders. His expression was soft and calculating – his lips curved slightly upwards – his dark locks brushing his cheekbones. 

He was enjoying this.

“Not a single gem or diamond on Earth could ever challenge such exquisiteness,” Micah murmured reaching across the table. 

He held his gloved hand out formally – as if he were meeting her for the first time. Little did the others know how well Mollie knew those palms – those long pale fingers that lay concealed beneath that rich fabric. Fingers that had felt and pressed and glided over every single part of her trembling flesh. Fingers that had reached down between her legs to press at her bundle of nerves and bring her to a pleasure that was unrivaled in its euphoria. Those pale digits that had brushed her cheeks numerous times- - had untangled the knots of her thick dark hair when the moon shone its light through the black sky well till the sun regained its radiance in the early orange light. 

Mollie knew what she was supposed to do – what she was _expected_ to do… but her anger was a feral untameable blaze of fire. 

With her jaw locked tight she placed her hand forcefully in his as he curled his gloves fingers around her own.

She glowered at him as he smiled at her – a smile that radiated smugness and confidence. She wanted to kick him beneath the table. She was tempted to.

Before she could make up her mind Micah released her hand abruptly and turned back to the King. 

“I have brought something of yours along with the generous gift on behalf of my father.”

The King sighed audibly.

“A shame he couldn’t make it. My special whiskey ages with each subsequent year he does not come to visit me.”

Micah smiled stiffly.

“I’ll let him know,” he said rather dryly.

“You know I am not fond of surprises, or games, nor am I fond of riddles young prince,” Alexandre said ominously – his tone shifting into something more curt. “Be frank.”

Mollie watched them closely. It was rare to see Micah in a form that was not streaked with some stroke of elusivity or equivocality. It had become a sort of enigma and as the winter prince brought the goblet to his lips for the first time that night Mollie saw something more glint within those cold blank eyes. Something wild.

“How unfortunate,” Micah murmured. “I _do_ fancy a game of _I spy_ every so now and again.”

Alexandre went silent and Mollie felt a heaviness in the air around them.

Micah’s eyes had flickered to Mollie’s and she felt her throat go drier than the Ophian desert. 

“There’s nothing more important than family they say,” Micah murmured as his eyes dropped to the amber liquid in his gem encrusted goblet. “Do you agree your highness?”

Alexandre’s smile had gone rather stale and Mollie felt the gaze of her father’s advisor stuck to the side of her profile. 

“It depends,” her father said – his voice uncomfortably strained. “Blood may be thicker than water, but the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”

Micah smiled humourlessly.

“Perhaps.”

Alexandre’s lip curled and Mollie saw the first signs of scorn cloud his features.

“Dinner is done,” he said bluntly. “Let us discuss this further in the throne room.”

***

The walls of the castle were chilly and dark as Mollie struggled to keep pace with her father. The sharp twists and turns were making Mollie woozy as her tight dress pressed down against her belly.

“Please,” Mollie interjected as her father swept past her into the grand throne room to carry on his negotiation. “There’s something I _have_ to tell you,” she murmured as she struggled to keep up with the long strides of her father. “It has to do with the baby –“

“Not now daughter,” he sighed cutting her off as he glided up the stairs leading to the elevated platform. “We will discuss this matter later – _in private.”_

The way he said the last bit made Mollie wince as she stood next to her fathers advisor on the stage. Alexandre sunk into his gold encrusted throne as he turned to address Mollie standing several metres away from him on the stage.

“This is your first negotiation and your first official outing in the company of two royal regimes. You are to observe only.”

Mollie closed her mouth promptly as her father shot her a warning glare as the members of his cabinet began to file into the room.

“Sit at the table – don’t stand,” her father instructed quietly.

Mollie bit her lip and obliged – hating the fact that she had to hide her current state. 

Not long after – a sea of blue and gold dressed men entered the room on the opposite side of the room – much more than the few that joined them at the dinner table.

“I want that signature _Marchesseault,”_ snapped a familiar husky voice that echoed around the ornate chamber.

Mollie watched in shock as Micah strode into the opulent throne room – his cloak billowing behind him as he stood before the King and his cabinet on the elevated stage of his throne room. 

She spotted the giggling chambermaids standing along the entrance as they eyed the winter prince with obvious lust in their eyes.

With an anger Mollie hadn’t anticipated she saw Micah’s expression transition unto something stony and dangerous. It was so different from the charming playful persona he had opted for at the dinner table.

But Mollie knew how the rules worked.

The dinner table was not the place for business. That came after.

“Ah _there_ he is,” Alexandre drawled as he regarded the boy distastefully. “If you weren’t such a thorn in the side of my enemies I would have gladly eviscerated you and the rest of your spoiled blood myself long ago.”

“A missed opportunity on your part,” Micah said smugly. “That seems to be a common... family trait amongst you Marchesseaults.”

Mollie wasn’t sure if the insult was directed at her or not but whatever he had said made her father sit ram rod straight in his chair.

In a practiced manner, the Lyon advisor that had joined them at the dinner table rose and Mollie watched as he walked past his winter prince and gingerly placed a scroll on the long table in front of Alexandre Marchesseault.

“Take your bloody contract off my table,” Alexandre hissed as he stared down the winter prince menacingly. “You Lyons and your insatiable greed make me sick. I’ve already told you I will not end my alliance with the Cape over a baseless rumour!”

It was as if a switch had gone off and all the formalities that had been so meticulously upheld at the start of the dinner was immediately ceased. 

“I don’t think so,” Micah sneered. 

The guards on either side of Micah had reached for their swords and Mollie heard the guards in front of her repeat the gesture almost synchronously. 

Mollie was surprisingly calm considering the animosity that had taken over the table and as she turned to her father she saw his face contort into something less hostile. 

“You kept him shackled like a rabid dog for the past two decades. Now you want to return him to us– all in exchange for this bloody contract?” her father all but seethed. _“Au diable avec toi!”_

Micah laughed suddenly and Mollie felt her heart clench. 

“Oh no your majesty,” Micah said slowly – the exertion from his laugh bringing some colour back to his cheeks. “As much as it’s a treat to return your nephew to you, he is not the surprise. Not today.”

Alexandre had gone quiet and Mollie didn’t like the sinister turn that this meeting had taken on.

In a flash Micah reached for something beside him and to Mollie’s surprise she saw that it was a bouquet of flowers. Slowly he began to make his way towards the platform of the King. Mollie hesitated as she heard the Marchesseault guards unsheathe their swords.

_Why flowers? It seemed odd…_

To Mollie’s utter chagrin she realized that Micah wasn’t heading towards the King…he was going diagonally…he was coming towards her.

He stopped right in front of her just as the guards beside her unsheathed their swords fully in a manner that purely defensive.

Micah all but ignored it. His gaze was fixed solely on Mollie. 

Mollie swallowed, ignoring the blush of her cheeks as her gaze dropped to the bouquet in his hands. There was everything Mollie could think of in there. Peonies, roses, petunias, daffodils... 

_How in the hell?_

They didn’t even _grow_ in these lands. 

_“Pour vous mon amour,”_ he murmured reaching for her hand and brushing his cold lips against her knuckles.

Mollie looked confusedly up at him as he forced the bouquet into her nimble fingers. She could hear the whispers of the crowd around her as Micah flashed her a devastatingly handsome crooked smile before heading back towards the centre of the throne room.

“I do hope you consider that contract,” Micah said softly his eyes now flickering back to the King. 

_“Madames et Monsieurs,”_ he murmured before striding out the same doors he arrived in. His guards were quick to follow him -- their uniforms glinting in the candlelit ambiance as they shadowed their prince out of the throne room.

Charming. Doting. Elegant. 

Micah knew how to take charge and win a crowd over when he wanted to. He was damn good at it.

Mollie just stared after him for a couple seconds. 

_What was he up to? What had he done?_

She could feel the burning eyes of her father as his gaze bore into her along with dozens of others.

 _“Adjourné,”_ her father snapped. In a flash his cabinet members, fellow aides and confidants filed out of the room. 

The room emptied alarmingly quickly and before long it was just Mollie, her father, her father’s advisor and her strict lady in waiting.

Alexandre’s lip tightened and his eyes narrowed as Mollie couldn’t help but cower at the absolute fury that had lined her fathers normally placid features.

Her hands were shaking as she gripped the lavish bouquet in her fingers --each flower – each soft petal a brilliant blinding shade of white.

“You could have picked anyone,“ her father murmured, his fists clenching. _“Anyone_ …but it _had_ to be a fucking Lyon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year Everyone! 
> 
> Just an addition: White flowers are thought to have been a gesture of rebirth and purity back in the day and even now. In canon, it is the same. According to Alexandre, it was an old royal tradition that one decorate the castle with white flowers when a royal heir was set to be born. That may provide more context for those who may have missed the subtle explanation earlier in the chapter.


	43. Technétium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie gets on shaky ground with her father. Mollie finds herself in a spot of terrible vulnerability as she has her first formal meeting with the winter prince since the events of Icedalar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plenty of smut this chapter. I also wanted to add, I read ALL of your comments. I'm sorry I'm so slow at responding. I promise I'll be better. I love that you take the time to write them out and value each and every one of you. Y'all are the best xx

“Tell me again how this little _mistake_ happened.”

Elio Courtois sighed and bowed down in respect to the man speaking to him.

“It was off of a single picture your highness. I hadn’t _known_ it was the other girl. Both of them were at the bakery that day.”

“No,” said Alexandre Marchesseault bitingly. “You _assumed._ There’s a difference.”

Elio went silent, his fists flexing in his tan trench coat. He looked down in shame.

“My daughter is pregnant. Fucking _pregnant_ with a Lyon because of you and your... _incompetence.”_ Elio’s face paled. In all the years he had known his King – never had he seen him so livid. “You were supposed to send the other girl with the Rebels and deliver my daughter to _me.”_

“Your highness,” Elio choked as Alexandre’s stormy gaze bore into him like a knife through soft butter. “My…my utmost apologies. On my family’s name I am so humbly sorry.”

Alexandre’s expression was frozen in a fit of rage. His hand was on his sword – that long ruby encrusted sheen of steel that had fought and conquered so many wars of the past. Maybe Elio’s blood would be another addition to its sequestered sea of crimson. 

Alexandre trembled for a second and Elio watched in fear when the King took several steps back, his wrists shaking as he struggled to clutch his sword.

“Your highness,” Elio called out wrenching quickly to his feet. 

The King waved him off, struggling to maintain his balance.

“It’s happening again isn’t?” Elio whispered.

Alexandre ignored him – instead – he shuffled closer to his seat and placed himself down as gingerly as possible.

“Each day that goes by is a critical one Elio,” Alexandre murmured. “I am on borrowed time. I do not have much longer.”

His voice sounded so soft and shaky. So unlike the King he knew so well.

“Don’t say that,” Elio whipped out. “You are young. That is not true.”

“It is foolish to deny it,” Alexandre hissed. “We must come to terms with it and accept it and prepare for it. Channel our energies into more constructive avenues than on something fruitless like denial.” Alexandre paused. “Perhaps it is my punishment. A curse placed on me for the sins of my past.”

Elio sighed.

“You’ve done so much good my King. You’ve brought peace to so many – built up this city into something prosperous. You have saved _lives-”_

“A good deed does not cancel out a bad one Elio.”

Elio went quiet. 

“You have to help me fix this,” Alexandre murmured as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have to fix this fuck up. I don’t have the strength or the _time-“_

“I will your highness.”

Alexandre went silent as he stared down at one of his most trusted confidants. Elio hesitated. It seemed it was his curse to be the bearer of bad news for the second time today.

“What did you do with the girl? The red-headed one.”

Elio kept it his head down.

“She had seen too much. I had Prince Caine deliver her back to Chartery.”

Alexandre’s head snapped up.

“You sent Caine? _Merde.”_

Now Elio was the one to pinch the bridge of his nose with regret.

“I know.”

 _“Merde,”_ the King repeated with a frown. 

Elio paused. 

“He is trying his best _mon roi,”_ Elio murmured. “He misses his brother.”

Alexandre flexed his fists.

The pain was still there. Elio could see it in the Kings eyes every day. The loss of his golden child. His eldest son. 

“He’s not coming back. The sooner Caine accepts that the better.”

Elio sighed. 

“He did well on his last mission. Drove out the Outbacks and reclaimed the surrounding mountain range. He named the city _Saint Laurent.”_

Alexandre frowned. 

“He seeks your approval your majesty. He just wants –”

“He is _not_ Laurent. He _never_ will be.”

Elio went silent immediately. Now was not the time. Elio could tell.

The scowl on Alexandre’s face was back on display and Elio could tell he would hear no more on the subject.

Wiping the sweat on his brow – Elio slowly changed the subject.

“It displeases me to tell you this – especially at such a tempestuous time. But the winter prince is keeping the Insurgency out in the abandoned Cathedral just a mile away from the main gates.”

Alexandre narrowed his eyes. 

“He is more cunning than I gave him credit for. _Cette salopard.”_

Elio breathed heavily.

“The Lyon prince is being housed in the royal chambers as of now. I assume by now the news has spread throughout the kingdom like wildfire. Perhaps the girl need not be locked down here anymore?”

Alexandre turned his fiery brown eyes back to the member of his guard.

 _“That girl_ is my daughter,” he said in a dangerous voice. “Regard her with more respect.”

Elio went beet red. 

“Of course of course _je m’excuse,”_ he said bowing low. _“La princesse,”_ he corrected.

Alexandre ignored him, instead choosing to admire the jewels that adorned his wrists and fingers.

“She stays locked down here. Until she has the child.”

“Is she aware of the custodial ramifications of the situation?”

“Somewhat. She is tired now,” Alexandre murmured. “I will address it further with her when the time is right. Right now I need you to…make sure the winter prince’s needs are seen to immediately.”

Alexandre was struggling to get the last sentence out and Elio could see it was taking everything in him not to march to the guest quarters and slice the head off his smug pale body. 

Elio nodded mutely. He understood. They had to play nicely. For now.

“It seems God is not quite done punishing me for my sins,” Alexandre sighed. “Not all of us get the luxury of a painless descent the closer we get to death.”

Elio swallowed the lump in this throat. This was his fault. All of it.

“I swear. I will fix this your majesty. In every way I know how.”

Elio was proud of the way his voice came out much stronger than how he was truly feeling on the inside.

With a heavy heart he left his King to his thoughts – the weight of his burdens feeling so much more vexatious.

***

Mollie was still recovering.

She had been sick to her stomach the night before – the white petals of the bouquet Micah had given her scattered around the stony ground of her room as she vomited up her dinner in the toilet. She was emotionally distressed and it was affecting her adversely. How could it not when the winter prince was just on the other side of the massive castle?

 _“I’m such a fucking coward,”_ she thought miserably as she locked herself in her room and cried. She cried a lot that night. Longer than she could remember. 

Micah hadn’t come to see her and neither had she gone to see him. But for how long could they keep avoiding each other?

Her father hadn’t come to visit her– he was probably still taking in what Mollie quickly realized was something of a nightmare for him to process. 

She didn’t understand the importance of what her father called _Royal Protocol. _It all seemed like a bunch of fictitious artificiality to Mollie. Why couldn’t they just _battle_ it out? Raise the swords they all carried with them and end it right then and there? What was the _point_ of being civil to each other when so many aspects of this entire situation was so far outside the realm of civility? __

____

__

Mollie remembered how quickly the King had chased the rest of his cabinet out of the room the minute Micah Lyon retired to his rooms in the guest quarters the night before. Something in the King changed. She saw it. 

The smugness on Micah’s face seemed to reiterate with Mollie and she realized he already knew. He was well aware of her status before he walked into that dinner hall. He was _always_ one step ahead of her. From the first day they met.

Mollie didn’t want to face him. But she couldn’t keep herself here. Her father couldn’t always be the one to drag her out of another long episode of depression. She found herself missing Araya terribly. She knew how to get Mollie out of a bad spell in just a few words.

Mollie knew the next interaction she would have with her father would be unpleasant. She could already taste the bitterness on her tongue as she thought about their last heated argument following Micah’s departure from the throne room. 

_“Do you realize what you’ve done?”_

_Her father’s stiff voice punctured Mollie’s gut and she froze at his tone. She felt like a prisoner in front of him now as he sat in his throne and observed her. Two other men stood beside him. Neither looked at her but their expressions were as stony as the floor beneath their feet._

_He brought his fingers to his eyes and rubbed them tiredly._

_“You don’t understand –“ Mollie interjected. “I tried to tell you before-“_

_“Silence.”_

_Her father snapped at her and she went silent immediately._

_“You’ve sealed your future. You have no clue what this means for you.”_

_Mollie felt her heart sink._

_“The public will know by now. That we cannot help…”_

_Her father was murmuring to himself now and Mollie watched as he drummed his fingers against the long oak table in front of him._

_“But he’s here,” Mollie responded – a slight desperation to her tone. “Micah is in your…our territory. Surely we can do something. We must have more flexibility than he does.”_

_“It doesn’t work like that daughter,” her father muttered. He was clearly exasperated with her lack of knowledge of monarchical politics and she frowned. He turned his pale brown irises towards her and Mollie saw a hint of sadness within them. “He is the father and you two are unmarried. That makes him more than capable of taking not only your child away from you but bringing it to his territory and raising it there.”_

_Mollie felt her heart jump to her throat._

_What? No. No._

_Her father’s expression was entirely grim now and Mollie clutched her belly as he continued speaking._

_“He can even go so far as to raise it alone – without you ever being present in the child’s life. The Lyon monarchy is known for being obtusely patriarchal. You have no chance.”_

_No wonder Micah had been so smug. He held all the fucking cards in his palm. No wonder Caius was reluctant to come to a final deal with him. There was no way around it. She was going to have to give up her babies to him._

_“No- no- there must be some way. There must be something.”_

_Mollie was tearing up as her father stared grimly at her._

_“You better start getting on his good side. If he’s feeling generous he may permit yearly visits.”_

_With that her father rose from his seat and left the room._

_Mollie sunk to her knees and sobbed._

_She had come so close._

Her father had made it clear to her that there was no way out of this and it seemed he had no further inclination to help her. But Mollie couldn’t accept this. She _couldn’t._ She didn’t suffer through her desert trainings under the scorching sun – vomit herself into fatigue – nor put up with the chronic pain for Micah Lyon to take what he wanted so easily. She wouldn’t let him. Not without a fight. She dragged herself back her bed and let her tears soak into her pillow as she sobbed herself to sleep. 

***

It was past midnight when Mollie woke up with a start – a horrible dream having roused her from the sleep she had been so desperately craving for days on end. Now that she had _finally_ found it—she found the pain and pressure from her belly not letting her enjoy it.

She gasped in pain as her child shifted in her womb – its weight resting directly on her bladder. After relieving herself and taking a short walk around her spacious quarters Mollie still found herself restless and hurting.

Her mind began to wander while she paced and flashes of Micah and his smile – that _fucking_ smug smile crossed her mind and made Mollie’s blood boil.

She was irritated, hormonal, and fuming at the audacity of the winter prince. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him – to wrap them tightly around his throat and just _squeeze._ Her depression had wallowed inside of her – turning from a small ball of bleak grey into an anger that was red, liquid and searing hot.

He had _humiliated_ her and her father with his mockery. Mollie could feel it. The reception from the servants had felt so cold and menacing, so much so, that Mollie was hesitant to leave her quarters ever since the wretched dinner. And once again, Mollie had no one to blame but herself. She should have come clean with her father the minute she laid her eyes on Micah Lyon.

She eyed her dagger and the thin silvery necklace that her lady in waiting Margot had laid out for her on her vanity. Mollie shuffled towards it, wincing as her belly hit the edge. She lifted the necklace admiring the thin silvery blue material that felt like cool droplets between her fingers. With a fury she clutched the delicate necklace where the elegant _M_ hung gently from the silver thread and with as much force that she could muster she threw it against the mirror till it clattered on the vanity and landed with a shrill _clang._

It was _unfair._ All of it.

She had made up her mind already. She would not be giving up her babies. Not to Micah – not to Hartley – not to anyone. Not voluntarily. She’d fight till every bone in her body was broken before they could pry them away from her.

Her eyes lingered over the pearly dagger that had been returned to her and lay neatly on the table of her vanity.

She picked up the dagger and unsheathed it, feeling the light glossy material in her fingers. She twirled it in her fingers the way Zephyr had taught her – extending her arm out and slicing horizontal before snapping her arm back and shifting her feet.

She staggered when the movement sent a sharp pain down her abdomen.

 _“God damn it,”_ Mollie heaved between breaths as the pain radiated from her waist to her skull.

She bit her lip hard as her fists shook in anger. Everything that had happened to her – everything that had gone wrong had been because of Micah. The reason she was in this position was because of him. The unbearable pain that had been plaguing her since her pregnancy was because of _him._

Biting her lip down hard with fury Mollie grabbed her dagger and reached for her silk robe. It had gone short in its struggle to cover her belly and as she slid it on she freed a piece of fabric from the garment and used it to tie her dagger around her thigh. Breathing heavily, she smoothed her silk robe down so it came to rest just above her knees to conceal the object.

With a final glance at the clock she marched to the doors of her quarters and opened them quietly.

She felt the dagger dig against the flesh of her thigh and closing her eyes she lay her head against the wooden door and tried unsuccessfully to soothe her trembling limbs.

“This is what you fucking trained me for,” she hissed.

Pushing open the doors, Mollie slipped into the shadowed corridors of the Marchesseault castle. 

***

It took much longer than Mollie expected before she finally found the guest corridors. She had heard the guards discussing the royal guest quarters and she knew that was where royal visitors of the castle were permitted to stay. It was quite a good distance from Mollie’s room and she figured there were some very good reasons for that.

Her knees and ankles ached as she slid along the walls, her thick curls having come loose as she navigated from corridor to corridor.

By the time she made it to the large mahogany doors that separated her from the guest chambers Mollie caught her breath.

She looked around her once before sliding herself along the door and checking to see if it was locked. She grabbed a torch from the corridor and jiggled the handle.

Surprisingly it clicked open and Mollie was immediately on guard.

_Was the prince expecting someone?_

Instantly Mollie was curious and she laid a hand against her thigh as she inched the door open slowly.

Expectedly, the room was lavish – it was a royal chamber after all – but it seemed oddly untouched.

It was pitch black but Mollie could see the bed was pristine, the sheets pulled taut against the luxurious mattress and the pillows lining the bed full and fluffy without a single crease.

Mollie could barely see anything else in the room and she cringed when she knocked her hip against a chair on her way closer into the room.

She lifted the torch higher and looked around.

Nothing seemed too out of place. She caught sight of several files on the table near the window and the curtains had been drawn. Apart from that it looked... uninhabited. Mollie suddenly stiffened.

_What if he wasn’t in the royal chambers at all?_

It seemed unlikely – but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

Before she could leave she heard the sharp sound of footsteps growing closer and closer.

Mollie panicked as she snuffed out the flame shoving the extinguished torch under the bed and dashed across the room to hide behind the large wardrobe on the opposite end of the room.

She barely made it as the sound of the door opening hit her ears.

Mollie slapped a hand against her mouth to control her breathing as the door slowly closed.

Mollie squeezed her eyes tight as the sound of matches being lit could be heard, followed by a soft yellow light filtering from beyond the room.

Mollie opened her eyes slowly – her heart pounding in her chest. She pressed herself even tighter against the dark wardrobe.

Carefully she bent over to steal a glance. She felt her throat go dry.

He was there. Standing in the middle of the room in simple black slacks and a coal black dress shirt. His dark chestnut hair was tousled now – different from the stylish part he had teased it into the last time she saw him. His gloves were off and Mollie watched him slowly make his way around the room, lighting each candelabra until the room was bathed in a warm inviting glow.

He was facing away from her and Mollie wondered why he had stopped moving.

He seemed to be glancing at something in his hand – his pocketwatch maybe?

Mollie wasn’t entirely sure what it was but she knew she would never get such an opportunity again.

Slowly, she placed a hand on her right thigh and she inched closer and closer to the winter prince – his back to her.

Before she could reach for her dagger a hand shot from behind and she was pulled forward.

The movement put her off balance immediately and Mollie cried out in surprise. Her arms were grabbed and entwined behind her with Micah effortlessly spinning her around so she was facing him – his tight grip around both her wrists as her knees hit the back of the bed. Her belly pressed up against his flat abdomen as he stared down at her his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Nice try,” he whispered mockingly.

Mollie growled as she attempted unsuccessfully to kick him. He only pushed her harder into the bed, his weight pressing down on her knees only.

“I wish I could say I was surprised,” he purred his one hand holding both her wrists tightly as the other came to stroke her cheek. “But I knew you’d come to me. It was just too hard to resist wasn’t it,” he breathed. He brushed his lips against her forehead after and Mollie squirmed beneath him.

“Did you like the flowers _mon amour?”_ Micah asked adoringly as he entangled his fingers in her thick dark curls.

“Let me go Micah,” she hissed twisting her wrists in his grasp and groping fruitlessly for her dagger. 

_She could do it this time. She could sink her blade into his chest and succeed. This time she wouldn't break down._

“Why should I?” he challenged raising a dark eyebrow. “You came to me did you not?”

Mollie did the only thing she could think of.

Feigning pain she gasped bringing her hands to her belly as if to convey the origin of her pain.

Micah let go immediately, his expression transitioning into something of concern for fleeting seconds.

In those mere seconds, Mollie reached for the dagger on her thigh and lunged.

Micah’s blade clashed against hers in a flash of blue on white and instantly she saw the fierceness of his gaze collide with her own.

She didn’t even see him reach for it but quite suddenly it was clashing against hers with a force that sent Mollie’s blade clattering out of her fingers. With a speed she hadn’t imagined possible Micah’s pale hand flashed and caught the blade before it could hit the floor. 

Mollie stumbled backwards in shock as Micah turned to look at her. He was _not_ impressed.

“Secrets secrets,” he murmured grabbing her wrist for the second time and jerking her forward. His cool breath fanned her ear as he pulled her in until she was inches away from him. “What else is Mollie Mae keeping from me?”

She was speechless. He had been so swift and agile. She realized now how foolish she had been. She stood no chance. All that training could not have prepared her for the aptitude of swordplay that was Micah Lyon. 

There was a smile playing at the corner of Micah’s lips and as he pressed against her. She could feel just how aroused he was by the entire situation.

“I know it’s been a while since we last saw each other,” Micah murmured. “But there’s really no need for theatrics,” he chuckled. 

He regarded her closely – his blank green eyes resurfacing so many emotions in side of her. She was trembling in front of him, her anger still pulsing through her veins like a shock of adrenaline.

Micah flipped her blade in his fingers and pushed his own ice blue one back into his belt. He was scrutinizing it like one did a painting or a sculpture. His sharp eyes traced the elegant pearly handle and the rose tinted steel before they flickered back to hers. His gaze was ice cold.

“This is a Marozzo blade,” Micah said slowly, continuing to twirl her dagger through his pale fingers. “How exactly did you get your little hands on this?”

The way he looked at her – with that unreadable cold expression. It made Mollie’s stomach fill with dread. She tried again, unsuccessfully, to snatch the blade back. His tone had lost all amusement.

Mollie scowled pinning him with a stare equally as frigid as the one he had given her. 

“I _know_ what it is,” she snapped, avoiding the question. Micah raised an eyebrow at her.

He ignored her, opting instead to run the sharp edge of her dagger from one side of her collarbone to the other. Mollie stilled immediately. The look on his face screamed danger and Mollie knew not to push it. 

“Look at you,” he murmured. “So fervent and passionate and full with child. You are glowing Mollie Mae.”

Instead of sheathing the blade like he had done to his own, he dragged the steel across her flesh taking his time to rip through the shoulder of her silk robe, gliding her blade across the material. He enjoyed ripping her clothes off of her. It was a control thing Mollie realized, that excited him.

Mollie swallowed uneasily. The cool air assaulted her, sending a shiver down her spine. The blade had gone through both her robe and the pajamas she had on underneath leaving her in nothing but her panties as the material of her nightwear fluttered to the floor.

Micah seemed pleased as he admired her body. She realized that the last time he had seen her bare – made love to her -- had been long before the swell of her belly was noticeable. He was taking in the changes slowly – admiring it.

He groaned, brushing his cold fingers against the massive swell of her stomach. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured. 

Mollie could still feel the anger coursing through her. She wanted to make Micah pay for what he had put her through during these past six or so months of her pregnancy. She wanted him to feel the pain she had felt each and every day since the moment she found out she was carrying his heirs.

But before she could decide on what pain she wanted to inflict on the winter prince, Micah had pressed his forehead against her neck and breathed in her scent slowly. His fingers had glided up her bare arms to rest on her shoulders. He inhaled and exhaled softly.

“How I missed you,” he murmured into her skin. “Each and every day. I didn’t stop thinking about you Mollie. You and our _child.”_

She froze when he sunk lower and lower – all the way until his knees touched the floor and his head was level with her swollen belly. Mollie looked down, her breath hitching as he closed his eyes, his dark lashes and his slender nose brushing against it. Gently as if she were made of glass, he wrapped his arms around her waist. His lips caressed her belly, a touch of winter on her heated skin.

He stopped suddenly, his eyes lingering over her stretched skin and Mollie shuddered before him. His face had turned into something unreadable and Mollie tensed immediately. She knew that look. It meant the gears were turning in his mind – Micah was _too_ astute. Much too perceptive for his own good.

“You’re awfully large,” he murmured absent-mindedly as his cold fingers brushed her belly. 

Mollie panicked. She didn’t know why – but she didn’t _want_ him to know she was carrying more than one of his heirs. The less he knew – the better it was for her.

Before she could process her actions she grabbed his fingers and pressed them up against her clit – moaning when the pressure sent a sudden sensation spreading along her limbs. It was a weak attempt to distract him but Mollie had nothing better up her sleeve. 

Mollie gripped his forearms tightly as he froze for the several seconds – probably surprised by her boldness. She sighed in relief when his fingers slowly came back to life, swiping the cleft between her thighs again, the searing heat making a dizzying delirium ring through her head.

“You know,” Micah whispered, taking his time to press the pad of every one of his fingers against her pulsating rosebud. “If you want something from me…all you have to do is ask.”

Mollie shivered when Micah stood up slowly. His one hand had curled around the curve of her belly while the other had lifted her chin up gingerly so he could attach his lips to hers. 

Mollie didn't want to do this. This isn't what she came here for. But _God_ Mollie couldn't resist him - not when he looked at her like that. Their faces were inches away from each other, his fine features on full display before her trembling irises. Her fingers dug into his expensive black shirt and her heart raced in her chest. He looked so devastatingly beautiful. His dark chestnut coloured curls -- the same colour as his dark brows against that smooth pale skin like a splash of colour against white marble. Pink lips set in a soft smirk below those vibrant emerald eyes. 

_What was she thinking?_ Sneaking into his quarters like a blushing teenager -- weeks away from her birth with a sword in hand to stab the prince. How could she do such a thing especially to the father of her own children? It seemed absolutely ludicrous now that she considered it. 

She melted into the kiss when his lips met hers -- those soft cold lips like an ice pack to her inflamed wounds. Mollie brushed her palms downwards underneath his shirt flattening over the smooth skin of his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat beneath her trembling fingers. The strong steady rhythm beneath her palms calmed Mollie’s frantic nerves and she sighed as his tongue toyed with hers. The kiss was deep, heady and dizzying – passionate in a way that surprised Mollie and she barely registered the frigid hands that had ventured further up her chest.

“Poor Mollie Mae,” he whispered against her lips as his fingers wrapped around the back of her scalp spidering through her thick curls. “No one to take care of you after all those months alone. No one to see to your _needs.”_

He crushed his lips against hers again – the coldness so soothing and electrifying as their tongues fought for dominance. Mollie broke away with a gasp, the kiss leaving her breathless as she curled her legs around Micah’s lean sculpted body. Tenderly, he laid her on the bed and kissed her deeply once again. She leeched off his coolness as he shed himself of his dress shirt and loosened the buckle of his pants. His cool palms cupped her mounds as Mollie tugged his head closer to her own – sealing her lips to his once again. The feeling of his fingers against her dark swollen nipples made her moan helplessly as he drowned them out with his talented mouth.

Micah broke away from her sloppily, barely letting Mollie catch her breath as he licked, kissed and sucked across every surface of skin his lips could find– down her neck, across her chest, over her hypersensitive peaks. Mollie shuddered, the wet kisses against her sore breasts eliciting a surge of warmth from between her legs to make a mess of her thin underwear. 

Mollie tugged hard on the chestnut coloured locks that swiped her chin as he squeezed and massaged her breasts. She whined – the pull of _wanting_ and _needing_ a body moulded against hers so desperate. Mollie grinded her hips to meet his, sparks of relief and tingling pleasure shooting down her spine when she felt his bulge hard and forceful against her heat. 

Micah’s lips broke away and she heard him murmur under his breath as he hovered above her.

“Do that again,” he purred against her ear. “Slower this time.”

Mollie moaned. Her pussy was _throbbing._ She couldn’t tell if it was due to the life forms in her belly pressing down against her cervix or the seeping heat that coated the crevice between her thighs in high anticipation for some sort of alleviation. 

She rubbed against the winter prince hovering above her, the thin material of her panties offering little separation from the searing heat of what lay between his thighs. Mollie rocked her hips up to meet his, her belly hindering her ability somewhat but managing to slide her covered folds along his concealed length.

“Wait,” he murmured gently laying her wrists backwards so her arms lay above her.

“I can’t,” she gasped. "I’m _ready.”_

“Mollie,” Micah said softly tucking her curls behind her ear. “Just let me take care of you first _d’accord?”_

Mollie looked at him confusedly.

He seemed amused by her expression and she just froze in confusion as he pressed a light kiss against her nose.

“We have to take it _slow._ You’re pregnant and I don’t want to hurt you.”

She went limp when he pressed her hands back against the pillow and nipped her lightly on the neck. “We have time Mollie. There’s no reason to rush.”

Mollie blushed at the comment and averted her gaze. 

Mollie tensed as he began to trail kisses down from her neck, through the valley of her breasts, down across her swollen belly and to her surprise down her leg until he reached her ankle. 

Mollie held her breath, his cheek brushing her ankle. His eyes were closed as if he were re-living a memory and she tried her best to quiet her heavy breathing. 

She whimpered when he lurched forward once again skimming his fingers up her quivering thighs in feather light strokes. The sensation sent tingles down her spine and she felt her face warm at the soft smile he shot her.

She gasped as he sunk his head lower so his dark locks brushed the side of her inner thighs. 

“Are you okay?”

Mollie didn’t answer – the surge of happy hormones flowing through her veins was too rich and overwhelming of an experience. 

He pressed his lips softly against her fabric covered mound, nipping, _teasing_ gently until she was a squirming mess, before he took pity on her and slipped his fingers beneath the material and pulled down.

Mollie’s entire body tightened. She felt his cool breath caress her core. His sharp green eyes were on her as he pressed his thumb lightly against her outer folds. 

Mollie moaned as his frigid hands pushed her thighs open keeping her anchored in place as he continued to tease her with his lips. In a flash his lips were on her as he tasted her. The sensation tensed Mollie’s muscles and she threw her head back. Her face reddened with the blood pumping through her veins.

God how she had _missed_ what he could do to her. That cold tongue tantalized her and teased her as if it were trained to do so. The way he made her _feel._ Zephyr may have given her the hardest fuck she had ever received – but Micah gave her a pleasure that was downright unsurpassable.

His tongue traced the line of her slit as she balled her hands up and whimpered. The heat from her core all but flooded through her trembling limbs.

Open mouthed kisses from the prince sent Mollie quaking and writhing beneath him as he sucked her clit, taking his time to swirl his tongue over the swollen bud. 

Mollie gasped. She slapped her hands to his shoulders – digging into his muscles as he worked her between his lips – his fingers joining his mouth not long after to take her higher and higher. 

Mollie was not a particularly loud person, but when his middle finger inserted between her wet lips and curled within her – she couldn’t help the helpless moans that slipped past her lips. 

_“Je peux dire que je t’ai manqué,”_ Micah murmured against her clit as he pressed his lips against it.

Mollie bit her lip as he continued flicking the bud with his tongue and curling yet another finger past her swollen lips. The sounds leaving her lips were foreign to her as Mollie cried out in pleasure. Her back bowed against the bed, her fingers tangled in the sheets, and her legs shook beneath her when Micah flattened his tongue against her core. Mollie squeezed her eyes tight, the small ball of pleasure in her belly expanding. He flicked his tongue over that spot – _that spot_ that had her seeing stars long before she could blink them open again. 

Mollie panted as Micah had settled on toying with her clit between his fingers – massaging the sensitive bud as he swiped his tongue in and out of her dripping slit. 

Mollie whined as she swiped several pillows off the bed – her moans coming out high pitched and uncontrolled. 

_Why had she come here in the first place? She had completely forgotten at this point in time._

The only thing going through her head was a white hot earth shattering pleasure. This was different – much different from the other times he had tasted and pleasured her with his mouth. His cool tongue – now warmed by her flesh and her juices _probed_ inside of her – lapping up all it could find as she writhed on the sheets. 

Mollie clutched the pillows behind her – dragging her body upwards in an effort to ease the intensity of her orgasm. Whatever she did – Micah felt it as his grip on her waist only tightened and his arms locked her in, his tongue continuing to trace her in the most blissful of ways. 

Mollie’s walls clenched tightly around Micah’s tongue as her hips lifted from the bed and her hands ventured downwards to entangle in Micah’s dark chestnut locks. She pressed him deeper into her as she came hard and fast – his tongue easing her through it as she trembled and wheezed on the massive bed. Mollie’s head was fuzzy and her ears were ringing, her moans slowly transitioning into soft whimpers. He retracted his tongue after this, his lips caressing her clit for another single moment before he kissed his ways back up to her lips. 

Mollie gasped when she tasted herself on his lips.

The nerves in her abdomen tingled as her wet walls shuddered with each breath she took. 

She wanted it hard and fast – something quick to satisfy the primal urge pulsating through her hypersensitive body. She needed him inside of her. _Now._

She shifted herself upwards, on top of him, the way he had settled her in the past. Almost immediately, she felt his arms lock. 

_“Absolutely not.”_

His harsh tone made her freeze and she trembled when he pushed her back down against the sheets so she lay beneath him – her hair splayed out around her on the pillows. 

He was not amused by her attempt to satisfy herself and Mollie winced when he caught her chin between his fingers.

“It’s too dangerous,” he explained quietly. His tone had gone softer after this and Mollie pouted. 

_Why couldn’t he just satisfy her already?_

“Not if we’re careful.”

Mollie was so desperate she was practically begging for him to fuck her. 

_"I'm so fucking pathetic,"_ she thought bitterly as her thighs slid against each other -- the skin damp with her slick. It was as if the winter prince had turned into her own personal drug at the peak of Mollie's worst withdrawal.

Micah frowned and Mollie could tell she was pushing him.

“I…it’s not safe.”

His tone did not hold the same sense of finality as it usually did and Mollie could sense the uncertainty in his tone. He wanted this as much as she did. The insistent nudge at the bottom of her belly was proof. 

_“Micah,”_ Mollie groaned as she fisted her hands in the sheets. 

He seemed to be fighting some internal battle but Mollie could tell he was losing his resolve quickly. It had been too long. And now that he had her – he couldn’t leave her – not without fucking her.

“Slowly,” he muttered as he smoothed her curls away from her forehead. His eyes were hesitant – careful – full of concern as Mollie slid her hands down his pale chest sliding his pants off the rest of the way with her legs so his cock brushed against her folds. Mollie groaned in pleasure as she enjoyed the sensation of his member against her heat. She all but coated him in slick as she swiped against him. He hovered over her, his dark hair dangling over his forehead as he brushed it back and supported his weight above her with his forearms. 

Mollie rocked against him, the top of her belly brushing his as she felt a familiar fire building up in her stomach. 

“I don’t want to ask again,” Micah muttered inching his fingers downwards to replace his stiffness with the familiar feel of his cold fingers against her heat. “But are you sure you’re feeling up to this?”

Mollie trembled as he probed her, making sure she was wet enough for what he was about to do. 

_“Yes,”_ she sighed pulling his forehead down so it brushed against her own. 

Without wasting another moment he was positioned back at her entrance. The prince began to push in then, the glide of his member smooth as satin as he inserted himself within her. 

Mollie felt the stretch immediately and she whined, her body quickly accommodating his size. She felt woozy as she locked her arms around his neck. 

_“Lentement,”_ he murmured as Mollie bit her lip in pleasure. “Slowly,” he repeated in English. His muscles tightened above her.

Micah was thicker than Mollie remembered and it seemed like an eternity had passed before he was fully inserted within her heat. Mollie could hear his jaw lock as the winter prince struggled to take it slow for her sake. 

“Is there…any…pain?” he whispered as they slowly found a rhythm.

 _“No,”_ Mollie breathed as he groaned into her ear. 

Mollie hummed, her breath releasing in ragged pants – the pleasurable feeling of being so full and engulfed like fresh snowfall in a desert land. It was enough. Enough to quake her limbs and create a warm blazing circle of bliss in her stomach. 

Mollie climaxed hard while crying out in pleasure. Warmth flooded her insides managing to fill her up while leaking from her entrance simultaneously. She gasped for breath as Micah jerked above her, his swollen shaft emptying inside of her completely before he rested his now feverish forehead against her neck. 

Mollie wasn’t sure how he managed to support his body above her – but he did – his weight not coming down upon her swollen belly for the entire duration of their exertions. 

Mollie gasped when he pulled out of her, her whimpers stuttering as her muscles clenched around empty air. 

Mollie shivered as Micah lifted her spent body ever so slightly. With surprising agility, he lifted the sheet and slid himself behind her so Mollie lay flush against him – her back to his chest. 

She felt Micah’s somehow still cool hands slide up and down her bare body. The heaviness of sleep and exhaustion was crashing steadily upon her.

He was rubbing slow circles around her belly – the feeling inching Mollie closer and closer towards oblivion.

She felt him pause as his fingers brushed the silk fabric around her thigh – the place where she had kept her dagger. 

Whatever was going through his mind was too much for Mollie to process now. 

For the first time in _months_ she was falling asleep to the sound of a heartbeat against her ear and a painlessness below her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mollie. Her situation just gets more dire. In her state of vulnerability all she really wants is to be protected. She's ready to give birth very soon and her emotions are all over the place. Hopefully she can pull it together before her children arrive....


	44. Ruthénium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie questions Micah's sincerity and decides to take matters into her own hands.

Laying naked on the bed, Mollie woke up with a start, her blood turning to ice. Dread bubbled in her stomach when she caught sight of the bright sun that filtered in through the stained glass windows.

The black sheets around her were not her own – neither were the gold trimmed walls surrounding the room, nor the heavy navy cloak that was draped over the chair near the wardrobe. 

_“Bonjour mon amour.”_

The voice chilled her to the bone and she felt the blush spread from her face to her chest as Micah appeared from around the corner. 

He was adjusting his ascot in the mirror. It was a navy blue satin material that added a splash of colour against his white throat. 

He had a smug smile on his face – his lips pulled up into a perpetual smirk that made Mollie simmer. 

_I’m such a whore._

She had begged and moaned his name last night. Spread her legs for him. Let him do the filthiest of deeds to her desperate body as she cried out shamelessly. 

She was _weak._

His eyes caught hers in the mirror and Mollie quickly pulled the black sheet up to hide her bare breasts. She winced as she brushed them. They were heavy and oh so _painful_... 

She heard Micah chuckle as he sauntered up and down the room. 

“Why so shy today hm?” he said teasingly.

Mollie looked away, her back stiffening.

He was combing his hair taking his time to tousle his dark glossy locks in place. 

Mollie was sore. She always was after sex with Micah. 

Her eyes caught the dagger that lay innocently on the bedside table. She had plans last night – plans that went horribly wrong. How had she gone from wanting to kill the winter prince to having him pound into her till she screamed his name?

She blushed feeling soft movement in her belly.

_He had been gentle though. So much gentler than he had ever been. His whispers of love, his tender strokes across her swollen belly._

She looked at him from beneath her lashes as he slid his gloves on and adjusted his waistcoast. He looked…good. It made Mollie swallow thickly. Her dark brown curly locks were thick and unruly around her shoulders and her head was pounding. She could feel the bitemarks on her neck where Micah had nipped her during the night.

She looked up to meet his gaze in the large mirror. 

“How long?”

Mollie’s voice was ragged and dry. Raspy from her cries the night before and the thirst that scratched at her parched throat. 

Micah’s expression didn’t falter in spite of the obscurity of her question. He knew exactly what she was referring to.

She had wrapped her hands around her belly. The skin was pulled taut -- her body struggling to hold the weight of what lay inside. Thin stretch marks were forming on her thighs and Mollie didn’t want to look at them. She had an inkling they would never really go away. They’d be there forever. A reminder of what had happened to her. What the winter prince had done to her. She dug her nails into the stretched skin of her stomach and grit her teeth.

"How long Micah?" 

_“Always_ so late to catch on aren’t you Mollie Mae?”

His voice had a mocking tone to it. It made the anger in Mollie’s stomach flare.

“When did you plan this hm? Was it before or was it after you found out who I was?”

Micah laughed at her sudden shift in tone. 

They stared at each other for a few moments – anger meeting amusement. 

“Oh Mollie. Sweet sweet Mollie.”

Mollie didn’t know why, but his term of endearment for her made her blood boil even more. He always had the upper hand with her. He was _always_ one step ahead of her. She could never catch him off guard. Maybe Caius was right. Maybe there was no hope for her or anyone else while Micah still had air in his lungs. 

“Who would have ever thought?” he breathed as he walked over to her. She dry sobbed as he cupped her head with his gloved palm and leaned it against his muscled abdomen. “Who would have ever thought the little fawn I found on the rooftop of Questershire was the spawn of a Marchesseault?”

He chuckled again – his tone so mocking – so _pleased._

“Royal blood is in your veins,” he whispered rubbing soft circles against her scalp as the tears spilled over onto her cheeks. “To see you blush and hide from me on that dinner table,” he murmured. “So coy. So secretive. You can’t run from me Mollie. I’ve told you that.”

“My f-father will kill you – “ she seethed as Micah brushed his cold leather concealed thumb down to press against her lips. 

“Shh,” he said softly as he wiped her tears away. “No my love. No he won’t. Alexandre is indebted to me. He will yield to whatever I demand from him because he has no choice.”

“You couldn’t have known he was my father. You _couldn’t_ have,” Mollie shook as she cried. “There was _no way_ -“

Micah continued to thumb her tears away as she cried. The sheets darkened with each teardrop that met the dark satin.

“Oh yes there was.”

Mollie shivered as his soft strokes against her cheek stopped.

“You told me yourself. That little ballad you sung for me that day in _Courchevel_ confirmed it all. Remember?”

Mollie struggled to catch her breath as Micah gloated proudly in front of her.

“I had _always_ questioned your blood. The moment you handed me that good for nothing status card.” Mollie had forgotten about that. How he had tossed it into the fire. “Riverton,” he muttered as he settled on tangling his fingers in between her thick curls. “No one is born in Riverton – not unless they were fugitives of another empire.”

Mollie shivered. _Had he suspected since their first meeting? Is that why he had just tossed it into the fire without a second thought?_

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” she questioned pushing away from his body. 

Micah looked down at her, his green eyes blank and unfeeling. 

“What fun would there be in that?”

Mollie exhaled sharply and winced the minute she slid off the bed.

Micah gripped her carefully, his lips pursed tightly as he helped steady her. He ignored her attempts to brush him off. 

She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she shrugged into her clothes from the night before. Her nightgown was in shreds – Micah having torn it to pieces when he undressed her. She had to settle on her little shorts and thin strapped shirt that did little to cover her swollen belly. 

Mollie cringed. The walk back to her chambers would be humiliating.

She really was huge. Her belly had enlarged so much it was now sinking downwards. She already felt so heavy – but seeing it now made it all too real. 

_Would she ever be attractive anymore?_

Neither Micah nor Zen had commented on her appearance. Zen had seemed to ignore it entirely but Micah…Micah had worshiped her body – choosing to relay his feelings through his actions. And why wouldn’t he? Mollie was sure it wasn’t because he particularly _cared_ for Mollie. It was for his heirs -- the future Lyons that would run his empire. Mollie had seen the look on his face the night before as he pressed kisses into her swollen belly – stretch marks and all. He was enraptured with them. Inside of her were Micah’s personal golden tickets.

Mollie watched out of the corner of her eye as Micah draped his infamous cloak over his body and adjusted the cuffs on his sleeves.

Nothing had changed for him. Not since he impregnated her. His appearance was as unblemished as it ever was. If anything Mollie swore he had _gained_ some muscle since the last time she had seen him. It angered her immensely. What gave him the right to continue on normally while she suffered day after day with the burden of carrying a child? 

“I brought something for you. Something from home.”

He brushed past her caressing her cheek affectionately – totally unbothered by the scowl that had become a permanent part of Mollie’s expression since the morning. 

“How thoughtful of you.”

The sarcasm in her tone was unmistakeable. 

Mollie saw his lip twitch. She wondered if he would have reacted differently had she not been pregnant. She had a feeling he would have. 

“I'll have it sent straight to your quarters later today.”

Mollie hesitated as Micah adjusted the sword on his hip and strode quickly to the doors.

“Where are you going?”

Micah paused and raised an eyebrow.

“Out. I have a meeting to attend to in _Péreal._ Outside the castle walls.”

Mollie’s eyes dropped to his sword.

“Are you…expecting any danger?”

Micah looked at her.

“I can’t answer that question Mollie.”

"You don't usually take your sword with you for meetings," Mollie couldn't help but add. She knew this was true. Micah carried only his dagger with him for meetings. She had seen him prepare for them so many goddamn times. But today... he had decided to take the thin massive sword and clasp it tightly to his hip beneath his cloak. 

He reached for the door opting to ignore her comment completely and Mollie felt her belly flip flop. She wanted to know about Caius, and Zephyr and the others. Micah was keeping them prisoner somewhere. For all she knew it could very well be right here in the castle under her nose. She had to get it out of him. _Somehow._

“Where outside the castle are you going?”

Her voice had dropped lower – almost to a whisper. She couldn’t look at him when she asked. She was afraid her deviance would be written all over her face. Micah knew her oh so well. He enjoyed reading her like his own personal stack of literature.

“You want to know?" he snapped. He had turned around to give her that infamous glare he saved for when he was _really_ on the verge of losing his patience. Mollie quickly closed her mouth. "A place where in your current condition, holds no real pertinence. Even if I did tell you _chérie_ …it’s not like you could follow.”

Cruel. He could be so cruel even in her current situation.

His words stung and Mollie dropped her gaze.

“Channel that hormonal energy elsewhere, not at me. Worry about yourself and the child.”

His tone held no more of the same warmth as it did earlier and without another word he closed the door with a snap.

***

It was close to midday by the time Mollie was fresh and presentable. It took her long to get herself ready these days. If her ankles didn’t swell, her breasts didn't leak, and her joints weren’t sore she’d have been ready a lot quicker. But this was not the case.

“I want to see the King.”

Mollie had ignored the hateful stares from the Marchesseault guards. She had to see her father. She had to reason with him. Make him understand where she was coming from. There had to be something that she could do.

The guards outside her fathers chambers looked at each other once before resting their gaze on Mollie. 

The look in their eyes was nothing short of disgust.

“I’m afraid the King is not seeing any visitors today,” the guards said slowly. Their expressions were stoic. 

“But I’m not a visitor. I’m his daughter,” Mollie said equally as frigidly.

Their expressions never wavered.

“Shouldn’t you be on bed rest or something?” the other guard said lazily staring at Mollie’s swollen belly.

Before Mollie could respond another deeper voice echoed down the hallway of the King’s large corridor. 

“ _Princesse._ There you are.”

Mollie whirled around. She had seen this man before. Once. Beside her father in court. 

“Gentleman. _Je prends la relève.”_

He was around Mollie’s height. Dark brown hair. Brown eyes. Older gentleman. His stiff shoulders and neatly pressed uniform signalled to Mollie that he was a high standing guard or member of the monarchy.

He turned to Mollie bowing slightly before offering an arm out to her.

“Elio Courtois,” he said crisply. “Advisor to King Marchesseault and his _Cura regis.”_

“I don’t care,” Mollie snapped. She dismissed him immediately turning back to the guards. “I _demand_ to see the King. _Now.”_

Elio seemed surprised by her stubbornness but showed no signs of annoyance or anger. If anything he seemed amused by the entire display.

“Ah but I can assure you that you _will_ care. With time.”

Mollie glared at him as he took it upon himself to fit his arm through hers. He nodded stiffly at the guards and led Mollie away from the King’s quarters.

“Are you familiar with that term princess?” he asked quietly letting Mollie walk at her own pace. 

“Yes,” she muttered. She had heard Micah use it a couple times during a meeting she had eavesdropped on when she was in Questershire. “It means the King’s Court.”

 _“Ouias,”_ Courtois said with a grin. “Then you’ll know every leader of the monarchy has their own personal advisor team or cabinet followed by a larger group known as the members of the _Curia regis.”_

Mollie tightened her lip but nodded.

“Sometimes when a King or Queen is unable to attend to something right away he or she consults certain members of his or her cabinet or _Curia regis_ to deal with the matter. He or she then informs them on what his or her decisions will be and they relay it to the rest of the public. At least…until he or she is in a position to do so.”

“He or she?” Mollie questioned dryly. She couldn’t help but shake her head in false amusement. 

_“Quoi?”_ the man said suddenly looking at Mollie with a raised eyebrow.

“You said he or she.” Mollie repeated. “Like there was a possibility for both.”

Courtois chuckled.

“Ah I forgot where you grew up for _un moment.”_ He chuckled lightly again. “Don’t look so surprised _princesse._ It is a minuscule mistake to underestimate the power of a woman. I always despised the Lyon mentality for their backward ideologies about them. I think women are far more capable than men in many aspects -- including leadership. It's a pity only men are allowed to inherit...”

“Minisucle?” Mollie asked. She couldn’t help but allow the disgust filter into her tone. "A _minuscule_ mistake?" she repeated as if she had heard him wrong. 

_“Bien sûr.”_

“I doubt they underestimate women,” Mollie retorted. “They forget we’re even a threat in the _first_ place.”

Courtois smiled.

“I sure hope they don’t,” the man said quietly. “Underestimation is one thing but forgetting them entirely? Now _that_ is a gargantuan mistake.”

He raised an eyebrow at Mollie.

“You know why _princesse?”_

Now Mollie was the one to raise an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because those that forget the power that women hold within them are the ones that are the most susceptible to complete and utter cessation.”

Mollie scoffed. Maybe…just maybe her and this Courtois fellow could get along.

“And what about the King?” she interrupted. “Why is he not available right now? Is he busy with something else more... important?”

Elio sighed.

“You _are_ his priority _princesse._ Don’t think for a second that you aren’t. But you have to understand that his stresses are plentiful and persistent. Not even the most rational and capable mind can deal with so much at one time.”

Mollie chewed on her lip as the man guided her back to her quarters. 

“Ah _vous êtes arrivées.”_

Mollie looked up to see a familiar face smiling timidly at her. It brought back a surge of memories – ones that reminded Mollie of white blizzards, snowy footprints, and icy backdrops. 

“Cécily?”

The girl bowed deeply and gave Mollie a sombre smile.

 _“Mademoiselle Mollie._ It pleases me so much to see you once again. I accompanied Master Lyon here. Myself and…

“Hello dear.”

Mollie looked behind her to see another older woman. Someone Mollie hadn’t seen since her days in Questershire.

“Esperanza.”

Mollie’s voice was just a whisper. She had forgotten about the old woman. 

Esperanza smiled wanly.

“Long time no see.”

***

It was late into the evening by the time Mollie was left alone in her sleeping quarters. It had been a relief to see Cécily but Mollie had her reservations about Esperanza. The old woman had been there when Micah was born and played a large role in the prince's life. Mollie had no doubt Micah had her accompany him here just so she could bear witness to the birth of his children. It didn’t sit well with Mollie and these thoughts weighed her down terribly.

Although Cécily’s kindness and mild manner was comforting to Mollie – it did little to appease her fears. She had spotted not long after they arrived and the sight of the blood dripping from between her legs terrified her. The doctor had assured her that she had nothing to worry about. But Mollie's uneasiness persisted.

She patted her belly gingerly waiting for some kind of tiredness to set into her bones. But her hopes went unfulfilled. The call for her father went unanswered later in the evening with not much changing since the morning. She had heard nothing from Micah after their encounter this morning and even less from the guards around her. She had only Cécily, Esperanza and her less than enthusiastic lady in waiting, Margot. All three of them Mollie had dismissed for the night. 

She missed talking to someone. Someone who truly understood her. 

She missed Zephyr.

It was on nights like these where she wished she could run to his quarters like she did in the harsh Ophian lands after an exhausting day of training and spill her thoughts until she was a quivering tearful mess. He was not the kindest with words or lessons… but he was so honest and sincere... 

She needed to see him. She had to. 

At her size and at this rather critical point in her pregnancy it was a foolish endeavour to want to pursue. But Mollie had been through a hell of a lot in a rather short amount of time. Although she carried the spawn of Micah Lyon in her belly, she still loved the little beings that pressed and kicked at her belly from within. Her resentment towards them at the beginning of her pregnancy had gradually become something softer and more understanding -- especially when she felt them move within her. They were as much a part of herself as they were an extension of him. With the way Micah caressed and worshipped her body the night before Mollie figured he had forgotten that they were hers as much as they were his. And she’d be damned if he considered even for a second that he could take her babies away from her.

She was due to give birth in exactly two weeks. Her personal staff had told her so. She chewed on her lip as she smoothed her hand over her stomach. How could she feel so much for something she'd never even seen yet? Mollie wondered if her mother had felt the same way about her when she'd been in the same position. Mollie felt tears well in her eyes. She wiped her tears away angrily. Mollie was different. She wasn't like her mother. She loved her babies. She always would. She would love them and care for them and protect them with her last dying breath. 

_And what of her after she gave birth?_

She remembered what her father had told her. There was no hope for her once Micah had the children in his grasp. What was stopping him from getting rid of her afterwards?

Mollie began to hyperventilate as she thought about these possibilities – each subsequent thought becoming much more sinister than the last.

 _How quickly he could change._ She had seen it herself.

Mollie had to do something. Soon.

She knew there was someone who could help her. Someone who was clever enough to outsmart the prince. She just hoped time was on her side.

Not wasting another moment she dashed out of her her quarters – as quickly as her nine month belly would allow her to -- and rapped on the door of her lady in waiting. She didn’t care that it was going for midnight and she didn’t care that it was past their working hours. 

It took several minutes before the door cracked open. Mollie was met with an angry scowl and an even angrier glare from those cold grey eyes. 

“Take me to the prison,” Mollie said immediately after her lady in waiting opened the door. Her voice was still thick with emotion but she put as much ferocity behind it as she could.

She narrowed her eyes at Mollie.

“Hm. I knew it was a matter of time before that insolence inside of you would make itself known," she sniffed. You think I care about the bastard daughter of our King-“

“Do it or I’ll have you out of a job and out of this kingdom before you can finish that sentence.”

The woman seemed shocked by Mollie’s frosty response. She reddened but Mollie knew that her threat was not entirely weightless – and clearly the woman did as well. 

“What prison are you referring to?” Margot asked slyly. “We have many that line the outskirts of _Peréal.”_

Mollie knew what Margot was doing but she was not in the mood for mind games. Not tonight.

“I want to see where the winter prince is keeping his prisoners.”

Margot raised an eyebrow.

“Did you ask his permission?”

“Yes,” Mollie said without hesitation – hoping the lie was not written all over her face. 

The woman simply raised an eyebrow.

Mollie reddened. "Was the empty bed you observed this morning not enough proof for you?" 

Margot was one of the few members of her personal staff that checked on her routinely. Mollie had no doubt she knew Mollie had spent the night in Micah's quarters. The empty bed in her chambers was more than enough proof of that. 

"You can ask the winter prince himself if you don't believe me," Mollie added with a sly grin. "That is if you're brave enough to go over to his chambers. I heard his meeting didn't go over so well today. He's in quite a... mood." 

Micah's ruthlessness was terrifying and it was notorious. For the first and probably only time in Mollie's life she used it to her advantage. She had been at the receiving end of it once and Mollie would forever be regretful of that night. 

Margot's nostrils flared as she observed Mollie distastefully.

“I will have to alert the King that you are leaving the premises.”

“You will _not.”_

Mollie towered over her small frame inflicting as much menace into her expression as she could muster.

“Do this for me Margot and I promise…I promise your deed will not be forgotten.”

The woman hesitated for some time but Mollie let her weigh her options. She was beginning to realize how things worked in this monarchy. Nothing came for free. It was not so different from when Mollie was struggling to make ends meet in Chartery as a teenager. It was a dog eat dog world. But instead of rabid dogs lunging for each others throats like the poor primary citizens in the alleyways outside her apartment -- it was a dance between two swans in a lonesome pond, one more extravagant than the next as they found a way to clip eachother's wings one at a time -- slowly and purposefully-- in such a way until the other was left featherless and without the support of their wings to keep them afloat any longer... till they drowned in their own exorbitant nest of downy white feathers. This was the way the quaternaries did it.

It took a good couple of minutes before Margot reluctantly nodded and Mollie released her exhale softly. 

“Smart choice,” Mollie muttered as the woman tied her robe tightly and led her down the corridors of the Marchesseault Castle.

It was a little past late evening and Mollie was not fit to ride a horse. Thankfully Margot was smart enough to arrange a carriage for her and hastily Mollie slipped inside grabbing her yellow cloak on the way out. She had stuffed the garment with food and water just in case. She would not be surprised in the slightest if Micah was starving his prisoners. 

“You are to wait for me here till I return. I'll be back before sunrise.”

The woman scowled but nodded. Mollie watched her open the gates that would lead towards the prison.

"Oh and Margot," she added. "This stays between us." 

***

Mollie did a double take when the carriage rolled to a slow stop not thirty minutes away from the castle gates. It wasn’t a prison at all – but some old crumbly cathedral. It was dark by the time she arrived and the wind whistled menacingly. Mollie felt foolish for feeling afraid. She wasn’t six years old anymore.

The building was big and from the first glance it looked dilapidated. The cross on top was a crumbling mess of white paint and what used to be smooth marble was now chipped and worn stone -- but Mollie knew better than to assume it was abandoned. 

“You are to wait here.” Mollie ordered the guard on the carriage who nodded stiffly. 

Without wasting any more time she slipped inside the building. 

Her legs were aching already by climbing the few steps into the building. She looked around her – searching for some kind of presence of another person, but she was met with nothing but an eerie silence.

Mollie felt her throat go dry when she spotted a crumbling sign with an arrow pointing downwards.

 _Catacombs._

She didn’t know why she did it but she placed a hand on her belly as she descended downwards. She was careful – not wanting to slip and fall and she gripped the rough stone walls tightly. Knowing she was not really alone – her babies shifting in her belly – was a small comfort but still Mollie was trembling. There was nothing but skulls and a heaviness to the dusty air that sent Mollie coughing and using her cloak to shield her face from the dust. 

As Mollie brushed her hands against the wall she let out an ear piecing scream. There were skulls. Skulls upon skulls packed tightly along the walls that Mollie had been using to guide her descent downwards.

She clutched her hands to her mouth in horror. There were bones _everywhere._ Bodies of people all around her. 

“Mollie?”

Had Mollie _not_ known the voice she probably would have turned right back around and bolted for the exit. But she _knew_ that voice and she dropped her hands from her face, swallowed her fear and shuffled closer to the source.

“Caius!” she called out excitedly. 

“Mollie? Mollie! Over here. Follow my voice.”

It was a much easier said than done task and it took Mollie some time before her hands began to swipe metal bars rather than rough human skulls. 

“Did she bring candles? We’re almost out.”

The other softer voice also sounded familiar and Mollie guided herself even closer.

She was so stupid. How could she bring food and water and forget something as necessary as candles or even a torch?

“It's alright Isaac. We’ll use what we have left.”

The soft sound of a match being lit and the warm scent of fresh sparks alerted Mollie to the source.

She perked up and sighed in relief when she saw a familiar blond face just inches away from her.

Caius lit the small torches that lined the cell and suddenly the cold dusty space was encased in a yellow glow.

As quickly as she could she shuffled towards him clutching his fingers through the bars of the cell.

“Smart girl,” he said with a proud smile. “I’m glad to see you made it out unscathed. I trust your welcome was warm?”

The knowing tone of his voice told Mollie he already knew of her heritage. 

Mollie didn’t want to explain the political details to him so she avoided the question entirely her eyes fixed on his bandaged stomach.

“Are you in pain?” she whispered. “Did they fix you up?”

Caius chuckled. 

He had bags under his eyes and his skin looked waxy. His hair was more limp and he looked pale – much paler than Mollie remembered him to be. He had lost his bronze glow.

“They had to,” Caius admitted. “But they didn’t use anaesthetic. It’s been a while since I remember a pain that sharp.”

His tone was light – attempting to be playful but it still made Mollie sick to her stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled. “This is all my fault.”

“No it isn’t,” Caius murmured. “This is not the first time I’ve been locked away in a cell Mollie,” he said with a chuckle. “And it certainly won’t be the last. Even if you hadn’t come and found us, we would have figured a way out. Us Lyons are good at escaping.”

Mollie knew he was trying to cheer her up.

“Mollie?”

Another softer male voice came from behind and Mollie felt her stomach flop when she saw a flash of gold.

Zephyr.

Before she could reach for him another more youthful face appeared beside Caius.

Mollie inhaled sharply. Not Zephyr. 

“Isaac,” she whispered.

“Hey Mollie,” he said with a half smile.

Mollie felt tears well up when she saw him and before she could say another word she began to sob.

“I’m so sorry Isaac,” she blubbered as he shushed her. She eyed his missing pinky and ring finger on his left hand and she began to sob even harder. “It…you…it was my fault,” she cried as her entire body was wracked by sobs.

“Mollie,” Isaac said sharply. “Stop. You saved my life.”

She stifled her sobs after she heard this.

Using his other hand he held on to her hand tightly through the bars and smiled at her. He had always had a kind smile – even that day on the train all those months ago. Or had it been a year since? Mollie had lost track.

“If you hadn’t intervened... I doubt Micah would have spared me.”

Mollie was shaking her head before Isaac could finish.

“He already planned on keeping you alive Isaac,” Mollie murmured through her tears. “Even if I hadn’t begged him not to in that basement. He needed you – he needed you as leverage against Caius.”

“No he didn’t,” Caius said gently. “You give Micah Lyon far too much credit.”

Mollie turned her gaze to him.

“Micah had all the leverage he needed even without Isaac. His demands were simple. You and the child.”

Mollie felt her heart skip a beat when she heard this. Did he really just give Isaac back to Caius because he could? That didn’t seem right.

“I tried to reason with him farther. Convince him that he didn’t _need_ you. That it would be more beneficial for him to hand me over to his father. You wouldn’t be going anywhere – not when you reached _Peréal_ …but me on the other hand. I can vanish anytime. I’m quite good at it.”

Mollie barely managed to return the smirk Caius directed at her.

“I had told Zephyr to keep you back in _Anubis._ Until you had the child. You’re almost ready to give birth. Had you waited, the child would have been born on lands that were neither native to you or Micah. On top of that, it would have been much easier to negotiate that way. At least you and the child wouldn’t come as a single package.”

Mollie remembered the note Caius had sent back. The single word. 

_Wait._

She should have listened to Caius. She should have convinced Zephyr to see reason. She knew he was impulsive and she fed into it – just because she was sick and bored of spending day after day in a rickety old pub. But there she would have been safe. Neither the Lyons nor the Marchesseaults could have taken her against her will there – not in territory that wasn’t theirs. That all changed the minute she, Zen, and Caden ventured out into uncharted territory. 

Mollie felt her head drop.

“I’m sorry we took so long,” Caius continued. “Caleb and I planned to return after a week like we always do after leaving our compound in the desert….but my problems only continued when Alexandre’s men confronted us outside the gates to _Peréal._ He threatened to turn us over to Micah and his men if we didn’t surrender you to him immediately.”

Mollie looked up in shock.

“But I know Alexandre,” he murmured. “He hadn’t known of your situation. And he isn’t really the type to ask questions. His guards returned to him the day before we arrived. Alerted him that you were supposedly pregnant. Seeing as you were in _our_ custody at the time. He came to his own conclusions.”

Mollie felt her face flame when she remembered. 

“He thought...it was you,” Mollie whispered.

Caius shrugged.

“Not me. But you were in _our_ care when he tracked you down. That doesn’t make it much better.” 

Mollie remembered.

“He sent those fucking guards and they reported back to him,” Mollie hissed. “Zen had a meeting with the Marchesseaults after you left and one of them kept staring at me. I thought I had been imagining it but I _know_ he knew.”

“Everything happened so quickly,” Caius continued. “And when you arrived the day of the negotiation in front of Micah like that – with everything he wanted– it was really the tipping point. I had managed to get him to agree to have the child... as well as myself if he allowed you safe passage to your kingdom. The kingdom that is rightfully yours.”

Mollie didn’t know why but hearing Micah settle for that deal made her stomach clench.

He had gazed at her on the hilltop with so much passion – as if he wanted to take her right then and there – but perhaps that fervour hadn’t been directed at her. Maybe he cared only about the child. Not about her.

Mollie blinked away her emotions. She was being so irrational. So childish. How he feels about her should be on the very bottom of her list. 

She focused on what Caius was telling her instead – hoping her emotions were not written across her face.

“I’m proud you noticed my little signal,” Caius said with a grin. “Zephyr did a fine job with your training.”

Mollie didn’t return the smile this time. They had still lost. She had to tell Caius.

“He’s here Caius,” she whispered, not having the guts to make eye contact. “Micah’s already at the castle. He’s staying there. He has what he wants. It’s over.” She didn’t mean to blubber the last bit but she was emotional. “He’s going to take my babies Caius. He’s going to win, just like he always does.”

***

“What do I do?” Mollie whispered as the tall man came toward her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. It was a warm fatherly gesture that made Mollie’s heart feel whole again.

It had taken some time before Mollie was able to get a grip on her emotions and think though the situation rationally.

She had managed to help Caius pry the lock of his cell open and before long Caius and Isaac were out and pacing the dark gloomy basement of the crumbling Catacombs beneath the Cathedral.

Isaac had told her that the others were in another passage somewhere further down the corridor and Mollie watched him scuttle away quickly – probably off to set them free. 

She had heard Cauis warn the boy to be careful. It was easy to get lost here – and what may seem like something close by could be a trap. What Mollie hadn’t known was that the Catacombs were not so different from the interior of a pyramid. The layout was set to deceive any person brave enough to venture through it. It was a maze – a labyrinth of sorts. One could easily find themselves lost within its depths and without a way out. 

“You have two options Mollie,” Caius said seriously as he paced in a circle.

He had managed to drag an old plank of wood and the bones of some poor soul and create a makeshift table.

Mollie was suddenly glad she had managed to sneak some food and water out of the castle and wasted no time laying all she had brought with her on the table.

He had lit the rest of the torches around the basement so a warm inviting ambiance had been established inside the underground tomb – or as comforting as a cold tomb many layers below ground could get.

His blue eyes bore into hers and Mollie ached at how familiar they were to Zen’s.

“Option one, you take your chances and relinquish the children to the winter prince. This I would strongly advise _against._ If there’s one thing you don’t want to do – it’s to be entirely at Micah Lyon’s mercy. However he seems fond of you and I believe the boy would want you to be a part of the children’s lives… irregardless of these dire circumstances.”

Mollie grimaced at this. She wasn’t so sure. Micah was unpredictable. One wrong move that pissed him off and Mollie reckoned he could play dirty.

“Option two.” Caius paused after this and Mollie watched his expression shift into something more cunning. “We beat Micah at his own game.”

Mollie stiffened when she heard this.

“How?” she breathed.

“You’re not going to like it,” Caius sighed brushing his fair hair back. “Which is why I didn’t suggest it immediately.”

Mollie wasn’t interested in emotions right now. She just needed to know.

“Just say it,” she whipped out.

Caius sighed.

“Alright then.”

His pale hands clasped in front of him.

“As of now, Micah has no idea that you are carrying two children. The Lyon constitution lists that a mother must relinquish her child to the father of a man born within that regime. It does not explicitly say that she must hand over _both.”_

Mollie tensed when she heard this.

Caius smiled half-heartedly.

“Seems like a small loophole – but the repercussions can be rather cataclysmal.”

“That’s too simple,” Mollie murmured. “There must be a catch.”

Caius dropped his gaze when she said this and Mollie knew there was more to it than just that. She could already feel her hands begin to sweat as Caius dragged his palms down the table.

“Indeed. There is something…more.”

Mollie held her belly as Caius spoke.

“Even if you went through with this option – you would have to relinquish the first child out of your womb to him. Regardless of whether it is male or female.”

Mollie hadn’t even thought about that. She had been too focused on them being lifeforms -- she hadn’t even considered that they would be little humans soon – with a gender and their own identity.

“I never imagined I would ever say this,” Caius muttered running a hand through his hair. “But for your sake, I hope they are both female.”

Mollie winced.

“As females, the children would not be entirely useful to Micah – that is if his agenda involves anything other than the mere joys of fatherhood. Males are powerful within the Lyon empire and as far as I know…Hartley desperately wants one and he does not yet have one.”

Mollie could see where this was going and she felt her fists flex.

“I can’t give up a son to him Caius,” Mollie said between clenched teeth. “I won’t let my son go near a man like Hartley-“

“You don’t have the luxury of deciding that Mollie,” Caius replied. “That is something that is beyond all of us at this point – including Micah Lyon.”

Mollie felt her hope wane within her and she dragged her palms back against her cheeks as her babies shifted in her womb. It was as if they sensed their mothers distress and Mollie breathed in deeply.

“There is a way.”

Mollie shot up when she saw two other people appear from behind Caius. 

“Araya,” she said with a grin as the girl sauntered towards her pulling her into a tight embrace. It was awkward with Mollie’s belly but they somehow managed. Mollie had never been so happy to see another familiar face again. 

“God Mollie you’re huge,” Araya giggled brushing a hand against her cheek.

"Are you okay?" she whispered. The girl scoffed at her as if she had been insulted. 

"This is like a fucking chalet compared to the many places where I've been imprisoned before Mollie," Araya muttered. "I mean don't get me wrong...it's Micah so I wasn't expecting a four poster bed and a private chef, but still. This is not too bad. It's better than what happened to them," she admitted jutting her chin out towards the skeleton that lay dangling from a coffin in the corner. 

Mollie frowned. She didn't appreciate the dark humour. Not now. 

Another more dominating presence behind her made Mollie’s knees wobble and she disentangled herself shakily from the petite girl as a tall muscular blond came out of the shadows.

She met his gaze and felt her skin warm when that half smile appeared on his face.

“Hey you.”

Mollie felt as if she were going to sob again. Zephyr however sensed the waterworks beginning and quickly he walked towards her placing his hands on her shoulder the way he did in training all those months ago.

“Hey. What did I say about the crying?” he said in that irritated tone that used to send her cowering.

“S-Sorry,” she managed in between sniffles. “It’s hard to keep my emotions intact these days...what what with being pregnant and all-“

Before she could finish her sentence she was being pushed against his strong chest – his strong smell of outdoors, and musk, and warmth surrounding her.

Mollie breathed in his scent greedily. She had missed him _so_ much. 

“Alright alright,” Araya chirped from beside them. “Enough of that. We need to help Mollie.”

Caius had gone oddly silent and Mollie reddened when she saw the stiffness in his expression. Something was bothering him – Mollie could tell. She just hoped it had nothing to do with her. 

“What is it?” Mollie asked ignoring the stain on her cheeks as Araya reached into her pocket. To her surprise the girl began smoking a pipe. Mollie had been told that was something only men did during their free time but Araya didn’t seem to care all that much…. and neither did the others.

She felt a smile tug at her lips as she watched Araya swipe the matches from Isaac's clumsy fingers. He eyed his sister obnoxiously.

“You take the pledge.”

Mollie looked at her confusedly as she took a long drag from her pipe. She heard Zen growl from beside her.

“Fuck no. Araya be practical.”

Araya turned her gaze towards her brother and Mollie felt a great tension between the two of them. Something was up..

“That is the only way. Caius and I talked about this.”

Zen snapped his head up to look at his father. Caius still had that look on his face and Mollie watched as it coolly landed on his son. Zen still had his hand wrapped around her hip and Mollie shivered under Caius' gaze.

“Is there a problem Zephyr?”

“Of course there’s a fucking problem,” Zen hissed shooting his sister a particularly nasty glare. “That is asking too much of Mollie. She has done enough –“

“And since when did you care about that?” Araya challenged crossing her arms and blowing out a smoke ring from between her lips.

“Enough you two,” Caius murmured turning back to Mollie. “We must let Mollie decide what she wants to do.”

Mollie looked confusedly between them.

“Take the pledge? The pledge for what?” she whispered.

“The pledge,” Araya said stiffly her eyes not leaving her brothers. Zen's grip had become uncomfortably tight around her waist. Something he did when was trying his best to curb his anger. Mollie stayed motionless beside him watching the expressions of the Lyons around her transition into something stoic and foreboding. 

“The pledge to marry the winter prince.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I re-wrote this chapter close to 20 to 30 times. The most edits I ever had to do so far on this story. Thank you all for being so patient. It's been a while since the last update. Sidenote, I personally think pregnant women are so so beautiful. Mollie's views don't represent my own lol.


	45. Rhodium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lyons and the Insurgency set their own plans in action. Mollie's stress leads to unexpected complications.

“We’ve been over this.”

Zen’s cutting tone was something Mollie had long acclimatized to. 

“Mollie isn’t going to do it. We need to look at other avenues.”

“There are no other avenues Zephyr,” Araya hissed. “You knew this was a possibility the minute Mollie decided to keep them. You had no problem with it then.”

Zen continued to shout at his sister, the two of them disagreeing on their latest plan of action.

Isaac was quiet. He sat beside his father, his wide blue eyes flickering between his siblings as they continued to hurl insults at each other.

“He asked me to marry him already,” Mollie whispered. Her gaze was drawn to the table they were seated at.

“Listen Mollie…” Caius started.

“We can’t get married,” Mollie said shrilly. “Love doesn’t even come _close-“_

_“This is not about love Mollie.”_

Caius’ sharp tone split the air and Mollie shrank back against his outburst. Caius had never raised his voice at her.

“Please understand,” the blond man said fiercely. “In the frankest of terms – marriage is not an overt declaration of love. It is an agreement – a deal-- a _pledge_ you make to someone that is purely political. It is a contract. You do not have to love to be in a marriage.”

She was trembling when he spoke to her. Even Zephyr and Araya had fallen silent. 

“Your marriage to him will be for the sole purpose of doing what is best for your kingdom and if not for that… then for your children. Marriage is splitting half of what you own with the other person. That would include his empire. That is a very _very_ powerful thing Mollie.”

“I don’t _care_ about that,” Mollie whispered dragging her nails through her thick curls in anger. “I don’t care about having half of what he has. He can have it.”

 _“Really now Mollie?”_ Araya interjected.

Caius silenced her with a single glare.

“Do you really believe all marriages run on love Mollie?” he asked quietly as she dropped her gaze. Hearing him say that made her think of her father. What he had gone through. She grimaced. “Marriage is an unfair deal at its core,” Caius continued with a frown. “You get some superficial sense of respect and security for yourself and from those around you. But that’s all it has to offer in a comforting sense. The rest is all about what the two of you can reap from it the most.”

Mollie stayed silent as Caius explained quietly to her.

“If you agree to this pledge between the two of you, you have a chance at seeing your children grow up. You have the chance of earning the respect of your kingdom.”

“But that makes him entitled to half of what I have too,” she whispered locking gazes with Caius. "He’ll take over this empire like he did with _Riverton_ and _Yvoire_ and the rest of the country side villages.”

Caius grinned.

“No he won’t.”

Mollie blinked up at him.

“Alexandre Marchesseault abolished patriarchal laws when he became King almost twenty years ago. That means that any marriage between a Marchesseault and a royal of another empire prevents that monarchy from taking it over. Be it a woman or a man who holds the throne they will always maintain their power and have no grounds to give it up to their spouse.”

Mollie was at a loss for words. Her father hadn’t told her that. 

Zephyr was scowling at the others who had shuffled around the table to pick at the food Mollie had managed to bring them. Mollie could tell he wasn't overly fond of his fathers new plan.

“Where are the others?” she murmured turning to Zen. “Where is Jöel and Caden and Pauline?”

“They're fine,” Zen said softly. “They escaped the confrontation outside the _Peréal_ grounds the same day you arrived at the castle. They’re heading… West.”

Mollie could hear something more in Zen’s voice. A weighted answer. He was hiding something from her – just like how he hid knowing about her royal status for all those months.

“You’re hiding something from me,” she seethed shooting him a glare. “I can tell.”

Zen stumbled for a moment. 

“You’re not getting away with that for a second time. So just spill it.” Mollie brushed her curls over her shoulder and glared.

Zephyr was staring at her, his expression a mix of surprise and something more…something Mollie couldn’t place.

“It wasn’t… my place to tell you about that,” he managed between stiff lips. “But if you really want to know. Then fine. I’ll fucking tell you.”

His attitude towards her changed so dramatically she felt herself go rigid beside him. He had been so warm and inviting before when they embraced. Now he was back to being cold and stony. Back to the Zen she first knew on that God forsaken ship. It made her heart sore. 

“James Lyon has gone rogue. He’s been traveling from realm to realm performing hostile takeovers on land that doesn’t belong to him.”

Mollie’s blood turned to ice.

“That’s what the King said,” she whispered. The blood had drained from her face completely. Micah had downplayed the severity of the situation at that dinner table – but by Zephyr’s strained tone and the heaviness that seemed to circulate around the kingdom Mollie was beginning to believe it was true. Perhaps the hostility didn’t have to do with her entirely. This was something bigger than her. Much bigger.

“What did Alexandre say about it?” Zephyr inquired immediately. 

“Nothing!” Mollie said startled. “I haven’t been able to speak with him one-on one since…” Mollie trailed off.

“Since what?” 

Her cheeks blazed. For starters, Zen did not need to know what went on between her and Micah. Secondly, Mollie knew it wouldn’t end well if the blond Lyon found out that she’d foolishly slept with the father of her children the night before. It was a silly, completely irrational thing to hide but Mollie didn’t want him to know. She carefully changed the subject.

“I just remembered something,” she said quietly. She pried Zen’s large fingers from her shoulders and turned to Caius.

“James was here in _Péreal.”_

Caius’ head snapped up.

“When?”

His voice had gone flat. He exchanged a glance with Araya who had begun to chew on her thumbnail.

“I…I don’t know,” Mollie muttered. “Sometime before Micah arrived. The King said so. James proposed something to Alexandre – something he found rather absurd. It was almost as if Micah was trying to…curtail what James had proposed. He suggested it was something completely infeasible.”

“I fucking told you didn’t I?”

Zephyr’s voice cut through the tension like a knife through soft butter and Mollie winced as he kicked at the sandy wall sending a downpour of bones and other unfathomable objects crashing down onto the floor. 

“He’s got it. Pieces of it.”

“Pieces of what?” Mollie questioned.

“Is it possible?”

Caius had turned to Isaac whose face had gone rather pale. He swallowed uneasily, his thin body quaking with nerves.

“I…I suppose,” he mumbled looking at his father. “While I was imprisoned at the manor in Questershire I overheard that James had assembled his army. I…I didn’t think much of it at the time but he was talking about his voyage as if it were a…a crusade.”

“His...army?” Mollie choked. “Since when did he have an army?”

“I saw it myself,” Isaac muttered brushing his light blond curly locks off his forehead. “He has an army and they’ve got...” 

Isaac trailed off after this looking up at his father in terror. 

“What do they have?” Zephyr muttered. 

“I..I don’t really know for sure,” Isaac muttered. “But they kept talking about something. I…I had never heard of it. _Souffle de vie.”_

Now Mollie’s head was the one to snap up.

Caius had gone rather rigid and Mollie could sense that something was gnawing at him. He was too stiff. 

_He knew._

She had heard whispers of this power – this entity - whatever it was since she had been thrown into this world of battling monarchies and hidden secrets. Gibbs had first mentioned it to her when he had fled his own regime as a child. Something about a man bringing it over with him to Lyon land. Luna had mentioned it once before too when she had taken Mollie out to the river in Anubis.

Mollie shuffled over and dropped into the chair beside Caius. She reached across the table and dug her fingers into his pale flexing fists.

“Please,” she whispered. “No more secrets Caius. I have to know. Is this thing real? Why is everyone after it? What does this have to do with iridium?”

Caius sighed. The ring on his finger shone bright even in the darkness of this decrepit tomb. It was as if he aged years overnight when his eyes flickered back to Mollie.

Araya had mumbled something about dressing Isaac’s wound and quickly stood up. Mollie figured that was more of an excuse to give herself and Caius some privacy. Zen’s expression was eerily unreadable -- burdened with his thoughts. It wasn’t long before he too excused himself and followed silently behind his sister and brother.

When their footsteps disappeared and the thin veil of silence fell over the two of them Caius began to speak.

“It was said that pure iridium was impossible to synthesise. It flowed in the river of Morte bestowing its properties onto whatever surface, landform, or lifeform that it encountered. Once extracted, it was believed that it could no longer function in the way it was supposed to. This river begins up in the icy regime of Devonis and flows down into the scorching desert of the Ophian Empire.”

Caius paused for a moment, his blue eyes meeting her wide brown ones.

“But twenty years ago, this was proven to be wrong.”

“Someone figured out a way to extract pure iridium and use it?” Mollie asked. Her voice had dropped into a hushed tone.

So it was never just a rumour. 

“Supposedly. A man by the name of Quinn Marchesseault.”

Mollie cleared her throat uncomfortably. It was a familial tie she wasn’t overly fond of. 

“Unknowingly, the man had discovered a way to extract pure iridium from its source within the Ophian territory something so powerful it had the potential to destroy cities – people – regimes.” Caius shook his head sadly. “In its pure form it can take in whatever it touches and amplify it -- sequester its strength.”

Mollie nodded. She knew this.

“Quinn never believed he was capable of accomplishing such a feat. But even his own mind surprised him.”

“They imprisoned him didn’t they?” Mollie said hotly. “The Lyons.”

“Yes, but not before Quinn had realized the mistake he had committed. Things as powerful as pure solid iridium are not meant to fall into the wrong hands. Quinn knew this. But it was far too late.”

“What did he do?”

“He asked the leaders of the Ophian Empire to disperse the pure iridium he had extracted -- hide it from anyone who attempted to find what he had created -- what he had accomplished. The Ophians agreed -- their fear of too much power falling into the wrong hands urging them to take action. They created their own synthetic version of iridium. Something weaker and restricted in its form. Impure iridium – still quite high in monetary value. But nowhere close to what its pure form can accomplish. It was a way of lessening the danger so to speak."

Mollie wondered if Luna sending her son to the Lyon Empire had anything to do with his involvement in the concealment of the iridium. It must have been. Solanio had been present at almost every meeting Mollie had the privilege of attending in Questershire. 

“What about the pure iridium. Where is it?”

Caius frowned. 

“It was said that the Ophians tried to destroy it. That much power cannot fall into the hands of one person. But in that attempt it almost killed the entire team who tried to do so. The closest they came to destroying it was splitting it into 5 pieces of iridium. From there they hid it."

“5 pieces? 5 solid pieces of iridium?” Mollie breathed. She could only imagine the power it could bestow upon the person who owned it.

“Not quite,” Caius murmured. “When it was split…it was crushed under immense heat and pressure. In order to reap the benefits all 5 pieces must be put back together.”

Mollie exhaled.

“But that’s a good thing right?” she whispered. “I mean the odds of someone finding all five pieces in this lifetime is unheard of.”

“He’s been finding them.”

Mollie nearly jumped out of her chair when Zephyr re-appeared at the door – Isaac and Araya hot on his heels.

“That’s what he’s been fucking doing since before he became King. He’s been hunting for them. They didn’t need Quinn to manufacture anything for them – they had been mentally torturing him for years – forcing him to reveal the location of each individual piece of iridium.”

“Holy shit,” Mollie murmured. “Is that why Rowan wanted the map?”

Isaac winced. She had her answer.

“Then why the hell did you give it to him?” Mollie all but yelled. 

“And leave you in _Icedalar_ for all of eternity?” Zephyr retorted.

Mollie flushed in anger.

“How many pieces has he found?” Mollie choked turning to Caius. Just knowing James and Rowan were so close to finding something so powerful it had the potential to wipe out regimes made her want to vomit right then and there.

“They say he has three of five,” Isaac muttered. “How true this is…I…I don’t know for sure."

Mollie stood up. She stared down at all of them – her expression stiff.

“You should have told me.”

“Mollie,” Araya hesitated.

“You should have _told_ me.”

She rose from the table as gracefully as she could manage and gathered her cloak together.

“Mollie,” Zen protested reaching for her.

“Don't,” she hissed.

“Mollie,” Araya interjected blocking her path. Mollie closed her eyes tightly when Araya squeezed her arm comfortingly. “Everything’s going to be okay alright?”

The softness in Araya’s tone wasn’t enough to soothe the ache in her belly or the pounding in her head nor the fear in her heart. It was like a raging fire in a dry forest inside of Mollie’s head and the smoke was making it difficult to breathe. 

“James isn't as powerful as he thinks. Not yet.” 

Mollie looked up into the glacial blue eyes of Caius Lyon.

“James is still searching and his army is no where close to _Peréal_ as of now. The rest of our group has gone West back to the outskirts of _Anubis_ for reinforcements and the rebel army in Questershire is being mobilized by Caleb as we speak. We’re going to win this war.”

The vindication in his tone reminded her of Hartley. It was almost uncannily familiar.

“The other piece of iridium is being housed in _Anubis_ isn’t it?” Mollie whispered aloud looking at Araya.

“Yes,” Araya murmured. “That’s why Julien and Caden and….Jöel have gone back…” she trailed off after this. “James has merged his army with the Outbacks. Their numbers are big and they plan on taking the iridium being protected in Anubis by force. Luna and the others had tried to deceive James Lyon -- making him believe that he had acquired the piece he had sought on their land. But he's no fool. He realized he was being deceived and he's retaliating hard. He's going to take it by force. He's already wiped out several towns on the outskirts of the Obsidian desert and has destroyed many villages leading into the heart of Anubis.”

“What about the last piece?” Mollie muttered turning her gaze back to Caius. ”Where did Quinn Marchesseault hide it?”

Caius’s gaze hardened when her looked back at her.

“What better place to hide something so precious than in a place you know as well as the back of your hand.”

_The castle. It was in the castle. That meant that James could come searching here next..._

Mollie felt sick to her stomach.

"Once he gets what he needs in Anubis that means he's going to come _here_ ," Mollie shrieked. 

"That's if he wins against the Ophians," Araya muttered. "It'll be some time before that happens. Their army is one of the strongest I've ever seen." 

Araya's words did little to comfort Mollie. She had seen the bloodthirstiness in James Lyons eyes. The man was completely unhinged. 

“Araya and Zephyr are going to stay here, grounded in _Peréal._ It should be easy for them to gain access into and out of the castle – especially now that one of our own is free to roam inside as they please.”

Mollie shivered. _One of their own._ Was this Caius’ way of solidifying her as a member of the Insurgency? 

“And what about yourself?” she mumbled looking up at Caius.

“Isaac and I are heading to _Anubis._ The sooner we slow James Lyon down the more time we have to prevent him from gathering all five pieces of iridium and becoming the holder of the _Souffle de Vie.”_

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Zen muttered. “But Mollie needs to get back to the castle before dawn,” Zephyr muttered. “It will be morning soon.”

“How will I know where to find you both?” Mollie wondered as she secured her cloak around her shoulders and followed Araya towards the staircase that would lead her back to the cathedral. 

“There’s a bell tower in the Marchesseault castle,” Araya said hastily tucking her short auburn bob behind her ears. “It’s at the end of the corridor near the west wing. The bell rings twelve times at midnight. If you are ever in trouble or you need to make contact with us, that’s where we’ll meet.”

Mollie felt her stomach roll with nervousness. 

“Okay,” she managed wiping the sweat from her brow.

“You won’t be alone,” Zen muttered. 

God she was scared. She was so scared. Maybe it was written all over her face. 

Mollie wanted to say more – she did but she didn’t think she’d be able to manage anything tangible. Instead Zen pulled her close and threaded his calloused fingers through her hair. “We'll get through this. Remember what I taught you.”

Reluctantly, Mollie released him. This was it. The fifth and final pillar for Mollie. Remembrance. She was one of them now and she had to be strong.

"Don't stray too far," she muttered eyeing the siblings. 

"We won't," Araya said fiercely. "Zen and I are going to scour the city. We need to figure out where this thing is hidden. You don't have any ideas do you?" 

Mollie chewed on her lip. 

"No," Mollie muttered shifting her gaze from Araya to Zephyr. "But I think I might know someone who does." 

Caius watched them from the shadows, his blue eyes glistening.

“It's a start. Focus in these desperate times. We'll get through this.”

***

The beginnings of the morning began to rise on the land of the Marchesseault empire casting a dusky glow over the ancient city. Mollie managed to guide herself back to her room undetected letting the soft morning glow cast over her heavy body. 

She knew the tiredness would set in soon. She had spent the whole night with the Insurgency but it was vital she sought the information she needed. She learned a lot and this information was critical for Mollie. She had to be smart. She had to think like they did – like these monarchies did. And most importantly she had to put her children first. 

The chambermaids outside Mollie’s quarters were giggling as they eyed Mollie walking out of her bedroom chambers.

 _“Princesse!”_ they chirped dropping into a curtsey. 

“Mollie is fine,” she said curtly. “What are you laughing about?”

“Prince Micah sent this for you,” they both giggled as they handed her a note. It looked like a royal invitation with its blue and silver seal. The rich emblem of the Lyon monarchy.

They were blushing and laughing as they looked at Mollie almost enviously. It irritated her.

“Well run along now,” she muttered. They were watching her – waiting for her to open it.

“Well what’s it say?” said one of them. The bolder of the two.

“It’s not your business,” Mollie snapped. 

The girl sunk backwards. Mollie suddenly felt guilt fill her stomach.

The other girl looked at Mollie stricken before they both took off down the corridors – the tunics of their uniforms brushing against the wall in their haste.

Mollie swallowed the lump in her throat and steadied herself with the help of the door frame. She slowly opened the letter.

_Join me for breakfast in my quarters. Do try to be on time._

_Regards,_

_Micah_

It was written beautifully. Micah’s handwriting had always been nothing short of calligraphy. She gnawed on her lip as she thought about the invitation. She suddenly had an idea. 

“Cécily?” she called out. 

The brunette haired girl arrived immediately sinking into a curtsey the minute she spotted Mollie. 

_“Oui Mademoiselle.”_

“Would you be so kind as to send a message back to the winter prince?”

Cécily hesitated. This clearly didn’t happen often.

“If…you want. I suppose…what do you want me to tell him?”

Mollie smiled to herself.

“Tell him to meet me in _my_ quarters for breakfast.”

It was petty and childish. But Mollie didn’t like that he was ordering her around in her own territory. On her land. The audacity of him irked her. He had bossed her around to his hearts desire when she was in Questershire. Why couldn't she do the same?

Cécily seemed nervous and surprised by Mollie’s boldness but she bowed in agreement nonetheless. 

“Oh and Cécily,” Mollie called out before Cécily could turn the corner and make the long journey to the guest quarters.

 _“Do_ tell him to be on time.”

***

Mollie kneaded the dough in the kitchen. It was a relief to feel her fingers sink into fresh flour and butter. The smell of spice and sugar was comforting and Mollie was at home here. She had consulted Esperanza before she took it upon herself to enter the kitchen. Esperanza had told her what Micah liked and Mollie figured she’d get on his good side by surprising him with a meal. She had to – she already knew he’d be irritated after sending back his invitation. However Mollie had another motive as well. She knew James was acting on his own accord -- but she had yet to figure out what Micah's role was in all of this. She wondered if he was planning on retaliating against his brother or joining him on his crusade. Mollie was suspicious. For all she knew -- he could be here for the exact same reason the Insurgency was -- for the iridium. 

She placed the poached eggs delicately on the plate and flitted around the kitchen. It was eerily domestic. Especially with how the nine month swell of her belly pressed against every counter she worked on. 

Mollie kept her face carefully stoic when she heard the door to the kitchen open and close softly. His presence was profound. She could practically feel his aura from way across the kitchen where she stood. 

He raised an eyebrow when he saw her. He was dressed airily today, although still formal. He did not wear his cloak - only a loose tailored dress shirt and slim fitting slacks. 

She didn’t know why but she blushed when he took in her form in the kitchen. Mollie wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned him on seeing her performing such a domestic duty. Fucker.

“Good morning,” Mollie said pleasantly. She hated when he stayed silent like that with his cold blank stare boring into her. It was as if he weren’t human.

He acknowledged her with a brief nod before gracefully seating himself into the chair in front of her. 

He wouldn’t bring up the invitation this morning. He was too prideful for that. 

“How is our child?”

Mollie opened her mouth and closed it once. All this for him and he inquires about her babies first? Mollie didn’t know whether to feel grateful or bitter. Her fingers were aching due to the pregnancy and her ankles and knees quaked each time she moved one foot in front of the other. He should be asking her how the fuck _she_ feels. 

“Spectacular,” she responded dully taking extra time to place the food on the plate gracefully. He watched her movements stoically.

“Glad to hear it.”

His voice was clipped. Tired – as emotionless as hers. Mollie wondered if it had anything to do with her. No. It couldn’t. He looked distracted. Mollie could tell. She knew him well enough to know when he was in a bad mood due to her and when he wasn’t. 

The door opened making Mollie jump. One of Micah’s advisors -- the one he had arrived with in _Péreal_ \-- came forward to speak to him. They spoke in French while Mollie silently cooked in front of them. Her French was quite strong now and she kept her ears wide open, spending an absurdly long amount of time on Micah’s meal. She had never really seen him eat; but Mollie could already guess he was a food snob. She had a feeling he wouldn’t touch the food if it wasn’t perfect. 

_“Et après?”*_

Micah’s tone was dull. Callous. Whatever he was hearing wasn’t pleasing him. 

_“Il viendra ici mon prince,”* the man said nervously._

Micah muttered under his breath. 

Mollie leaned closer brushing her thick curls to one side of her shoulder. She listened to the musings of the men in front of her. Mollie was convinced they were talking about James. 

When Mollie finished with the meal she walked around the large island to slide the plate in front of him. It was perfect and Mollie swelled with pride. The eggs were steaming, the garnish a vibrant shade of green contrasted against the porcelain white plate. A fine meal for a royal. 

Micah was turned towards his advisor his expression irritated. 

She reddened when she noticed he didn’t even acknowledge her nor the dish directly in front him that she had spent so much time making — too deep in conversation to notice. Mollie wanted to yell at him - to make him eat the damn thing she had worked so hard on. But she kept her mouth shut and scowled instead. 

_“Ouais c’est ca,”_ Micah sighed. He threaded his fingers through his chestnut brown locks before addressing his advisor once more. “I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

Mollie gaped as he stood up, his advisor nodding quickly with him before he bowed down in respect to the winter prince. 

“But aren’t you going to try-,” she started before getting shut down immediately by the palm Micah offhandedly waved at her - a gesture to keep silent. 

“I’ll handle it,” Micah said lowly. His advisor nodded gravely.

As if she weren’t even there Micah followed his advisor out of the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click. 

***

Mollie had spent the rest of the day hidden in the kitchen. She was seething and rather than do something foolish she channelled her anger into her baking. She was messy today – ingredients spread across the marble countertops like sprinkles of confetti – white flour dusted across her arms and cheeks. But she didn’t care. She needed to clear her head from everything she had learned – from everything that would only get harder for Mollie. 

Would Micah even propose to her again? Could she do what Caius asked of her? Would James find what he was looking for? Was Micah with or against his brother?

She muttered under her breath as her turbulent thoughts consumed her. She focused instead on stacking her pastries on the serving platter in front of her. She was supposed to spend the morning extracting information from Micah. She had meticulously planned out what she was going to ask him. She gritted her teeth in annoyance. Mollie was also irritated that he invited her for breakfast first and then decided to just leave before he could even touch her plate. Was he being petty because she countered his original invitation earlier? 

“Like I fucking care,” she mumbled under her breath.

Mollie was so taken up with her thoughts she hadn’t heard the door quietly open and close. Only when she felt arms snake around her from behind did she yelp and drop the dough in her hands with a shock.

“What-“

“Shh.”

His soft whisper at her ear made Mollie’s spine tingle with nervousness and a hint of arousal. His smell was all around her – challenging the aromatic smell of the baked goods enveloping the kitchen with its rich scent. 

He hummed against her neck – his cold lips making her skin erupt in a myriad of goosebumps. 

His palms slid down her body to rest on her swollen belly. Mollie shivered. He was so cold to her earlier in the day and had written her off as if she were just another maid in the castle. Now he was worshiping her as if she were his queen. 

He had quite a nerve.

Mollie swallowed uneasily. Every question she had planned on asking him suddenly evaporated in her mind like flurries on wet concrete.

“Micah,” she gasped as he rubbed his palms against her stomach slowly. 

_“Mon amour,”_ he responded planting soft kisses against her throat. “What are you doing hiding in here all day?”

The motions were soothing and Mollie found herself closing her eyes, revelling in the calming sensation of Micah’s soft breaths against her jaw. 

“I wasn’t…hiding,” she managed. She writhed when his lips reached her pulse point and he slowly began to suck.

Mollie blinked her eyes open and turned her head slightly. Her pale brown eyes met his vibrant green irises and she winced. They were always so _clear._

“You look…tired. You should be resting, not hiding yourself away somewhere in the castle. Who knows what could have happened had you escaped somewhere no one could find you.”

Mollie froze. 

_Did he know?_

Mollie’s heart was pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to fathom how pissed Micah would be if he knew where she had taken off to the night before. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe he just noticed the tiredness in her eyes. Yes that was it. She hadn’t slept a wink last night.

“I guess that comes with one of the many joys of pregnancy,” she murmured turning to glance down at her belly.

Micah was quiet for some time – his body pressed against hers from behind. Their breathing matched as she felt each inhale and exhale of his chest behind her.

Micah’s arm tightened around her and she stilled feeling him press gentle kisses down her collarbone from behind. 

“You’re going to be such a good mother.”

His whisper against her skin made her knees weak and Mollie clutched the edge of the table tightly. The fierceness in his tone made Mollie’s throat swell with its sincerity. God. Why did he have to do this to her.

“Things will be different.” He hesitated thumbing the swell of Mollie’s belly. “Our child will have everything this world has to offer. I promise you that.”

“You can’t promise me that,” Mollie whispered. Her nails scraped the marble counter top as she shook against the winter prince. Micah turned her chin towards him. Her nose brushed his as he moved one of his palms from her belly to hold her cheek. “You can’t promise me nothing will happen to her.”

“Her?”

Mollie hadn’t even realized it had slipped past her lips. Her dreams had always been of a little girl and her nightmares of a boy. She _wanted_ a girl. At least for her own peace of mind. She hadn’t realized she had said it aloud in front of Micah.

He smirked as she blushed.

Micah dragged Mollie away from the counter and sunk to one knee in front of her. He didn’t care that she was covered in flour nor that the kitchen was a complete mess. His thoughts were on something else entirely. “Is that what you are?" he murmured brushing his nose against the tip of her abdomen. _”Une petite princesse?”_

As if it knew its father’s voice her babies shifted in her womb. Mollie would never get used to that feeling – no matter how many times it had occurred throughout her pregnancy.

Mollie bit her lip and closed her eyes tightly when Micah left a soft kiss on her belly. It was a gesture that made her warm and gooey and completely distraught all at once. She wanted to hate him so badly. Especially after how he had treated her this morning. Mollie was still bitter about it.

He stood up swiftly and pocketed his gloves in a single fluid motion.

“What’s on the menu tonight?”

Mollie raised an eyebrow at him. She subdued the urge to scoff in his face.

“Oh so _now_ you’re hungry? Didn’t seem like it this morning.”

Micah furrowed his brow for a moment in confusion. She simmered with irritation when he laughed off-handedly as if he had forgotten about their encounter earlier in the day.

“Oh Mollie Mae,” he chuckled amusedly. 

Mollie frowned at the way his pink lips curved up in a smirk. It was a smile that sent many hearts racing and many cheeks burning. Mollie was not entirely immune to Micah’s advances and she had a feeling he knew how it made her squirm. 

She clutched the table even tighter feeling her nails dig into the stony countertop.

Mollie had made several dishes – some just to remind her of her bakery in Chartery and something else altogether. Something she had specifically asked Margot how to create.

She watched Micah’s movements as he lifted a delicate bowl of custard cream Mollie had whipped earlier. 

“It’s not finished yet…”

Mollie blurted this out before Micah could properly observe the stacked pastries Mollie had been assembling before he walked in.

_Croquembouche._

He had told her once long ago that it was something he enjoyed. Something his mother had adored as a child.

Mollie blushed when he raised an eyebrow at her. He seemed surprised she had made the dish. In all honesty, she was surprised she had made it too.

“I still have to glue it together…with the caramel,” Mollie muttered swiping her palms against her apron. 

She chewed her lip watching Micah reach for a choux pastry near the top of the golden tower. Carefully he pulled apart the dough letting the cream custard filling spread across his pale fingers.

He said nothing but walked closer to her – so close that she could feel his cool breath fan her forehead. 

Mollie looked up at him questioningly. He looked down at her with that familiar cold stare.

“Undress.”

Mollie’s lips parted in surprise when he slid his custard coated fingers across her collarbone feeling the warm sugary sweet liquid smear against her skin.

“What the…” she protested. He said little – taking the liberty of pulling her simple dress downward to expose her shoulder. “What are you doing?” she gasped. 

He lifted her up onto the counter as if she and the babies in her belly were little addition to her weight. 

She panted when he pulled the beautiful lace collar of her dress to the side exposing her shoulder. The smell of custard and cream filling permeated Mollie’s senses as his sugar coated fingers continued to glide across her skin.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a taste?” he purred against her ear. 

Mollie’s long legs wrapped around his torso for balance as his fingers continued to pull down the front of her dress till it pooled around her hips, leaving her nude from the waist up. 

She paid little attention to the various jars and bowls that fell over when Micah sat her on the counter and inserted himself snugly between her thighs. 

“If I recall correctly,” she hissed feeling a fresh coat of custard smear across her chest – “I already did that this morning.”

She felt him smile against her neck. 

“Well then do it again.”

Mollie shivered watching him reach for another choux pastry before squeezing the soft dough in his hands and letting the filling drip down her chest and in between her breasts.

She frowned and reached for the pastry letting the filling spread across his fingers seep onto her own. She decided to humour him.

“Do you want a taste?” She brought the pastry forward to his lips expectantly – eager to actually see him try something she had made. He smirked at her.

“Yes,” he murmured. “But from _here.”_

Mollie gasped at the sensation of his cool tongue following the line of creamy sweetness from one part of her shoulder to the other. He lapped up the decadent sweetness with his tongue – cleaning up the custard that dripped down her chest.

Her throat tightened and her centre throbbed with arousal the more she watched him suck the creamy filling from the top of her chest -- across each mound and even in the space between her breasts. It made Mollie tingly and breathless but she refused to let him know. 

Mollie tensed when he kissed his way from her breast to her neck, taking his dear sweet time to line her bottom lip with his tongue gently, before enveloping her mouth with a slow and sensual kiss. 

The kiss was deep and dizzying and Mollie could taste the sweetness of the filling on his tongue as it twirled against her own. 

_“Fuck,”_ Mollie thought hazily. _What was she even doing? She should be fucking interrogating him, not making out with him in the middle of the kitchen._

Mollie broke away sloppily and groped around for the fabric of her dress that had pooled around her knees. She pulled it up and adjusted it making sure to shoot a frigid glare at Micah who had a smug smile on his face.

They were supposed to be discussing important matters. Mollie wasn’t here for pleasure, she was here for information and Micah was doing a beautiful job of distracting her. Typical. 

“Put me down,” she snapped.

Micah was unperturbed by her change in attitude and with a crooked smile lifted her gently back onto the ground. She couldn’t get down herself and it hurt her pride to have to ask him. She threw her apron to the side with a huff and pushed past him to stand on the opposite side of the massive island that stood in the centre of the kitchen. The same island littered with sugar and custard where they had just made out. 

Micah laughed at the scowl she directed at him. He rolled his sleeves upwards, so the sleeves of his dark shirt rested lightly at the crease of his elbows and leaned forward on the island expectantly. His green eyes gleamed with mirth. 

“What’s this about _chérie?_ Is this about this morning? Or is this about something else entirely…”

Mollie ground her teeth. She had a lot of fucking things she could grudge him about. 

Whatever happened between them this morning was rudimentary – Micah knew this. He just wanted to toy with her a little. Classic Micah.

“Look Micah,” she muttered. “We need to talk about the…child.”

Mollie had to be careful how she approached the subject. Micah sighed.

“I suppose you’re correct. The sooner we have this conversation – the better.”

Mollie felt her knees wobble when he clasped his hands together on the countertop. So poised – so expectant – as if they were having a pleasant negotiation.

Their eyes met and she swallowed uneasily.

“She’s going to be born here,” Mollie said firmly. “I can’t travel anywhere else in my condition and… my father forbids me from leaving the castle anyway.”

Micah shrugged. 

“A pity,” he murmured. “But we must adapt to circumstances.”

He didn’t _seem_ pissed but Mollie knew better than to assume. She still had to be vigilant.

“I want her to be raised here Micah,” she said tentatively. “The family ties are strong and this place is… forgiving. There will be so much opportunity for her here.” Micah said nothing and Mollie felt her throat go dry. His expression was vacant. His eyes flickered back to hers and Mollie felt the frigidness from her position. “There’s so much instability in the Lyon regime,” she continued. “Chartery is an industrial wasteland and with the rebellions happening in the South and the armies in the West…please understand Micah. It’s no place to raise a child…”

Mollie was phrasing her words carefully. But what she really wanted was her daughters as far away from Hartley and the rest of his Lyon clan as humanly possible. 

“How can she be expected to earn the respect of her people if she isn’t present?” Micah asked calmly.

“Her people are _here.”_ Mollie hissed.

“The child is a Lyon. She is expected to rule the kingdom given to her by the last name she bears Mollie Mae. It is not my choice. That is just the way it works. It has been that way for generations.”

He was so diplomatic and conversational as if none of this was his fault or doing whatsoever. As if Micah were the one forced into following the rules.

Mollie just stared at him.

“You are a Marchesseault, thus you are entitled to stay here and rule this kingdom as you so please. It is quite simple Mollie. The rules are in place and we must follow them.”

“The rules can be changed,” Mollie muttered. Her heart rate was quickening. She didn’t like what Micah was implying.

“The rules _won’t_ be changed.”

His tone had become curt and Mollie could hear the veiled warning beneath his cool demeanour. 

“Don’t make this difficult Mollie. The child will accompany me back to Questershire once she is well enough to travel. Whether you come with is _entirely_ up to you.”

Mollie’s back stiffened.

He was throwing the ball in her court for the first time since she’d met. It was something Micah never allowed back in Questershire.

“She’s not going _anywhere.”_

Micah chuckled.

“We’ll see.”

The door to the kitchens opened widely and Mollie froze in place – not so different from a deer in headlights.

Mollie’s eyes snapped up and met the strict gaze of her father. 

“You’re late.”

Mollie cursed silently. She had forgotten about the scheduled meeting with her father. Micah had distracted her.

Her fathers gaze flickered to the winter prince and Mollie saw his smile go stale.

“And you are?”

“Leaving,” Micah said with a smile.

He grabbed Mollie’s hand before he left pressing a soft kiss to her fingers. It was chaste as it could get – as if they hadn’t just made out on the kitchen countertop. 

Mollie’s legs felt wobbly as her fathers gaze followed Micah out of the airy room. His brown eyes flickered back to hers and Mollie squeezed her legs together tightly. Her neck was riddled with bitemarks reddening her cheeks and making her more flustered than she was. She was sure her father noticed.

“What did you tell him?”

Her fathers tone was crisp. 

“Nothing,” she said bluntly. “I told him nothing he didn’t already know.”

Alexandre didn’t seem satisfied with her answer but Mollie could tell something more pressing was on his mind.

“I have to leave for some time. I received an urgent message from fellow members of the _Curia regis_ in a neighbouring empire. An ally.”

Mollie tensed. 

"What's wrong?" she pressed. "What's happening?" 

Alexandre raised an eyebrow. 

"Why not ask your winter prince that question," her father sneered. "I'm surprised he hasn't filled you in on what is going on outside these walls. Perhaps you were too busy with other...pursuits."

Mollie flushed. 

"We were discussing the child," she said hotly. "That's more important than anything political right now." 

"And?" 

"I won't let him raise the child without me," Mollie said firmly. "She belongs to me as much as she belongs to him."

She could practically feel the frustration rolling off her father. "I do hope you know what that entails," Alexandre said stiffly. 

Mollie was aware. She knew the price was a heavy one but she would do anything to keep her children safe. 

"I'm going to marry him," she murmured softly. 

Alexandre huffed in frustration. Mollie could see the slightest flicker of pain flit across his features. 

"You don't have to do this," Alexandre muttered. "A cover up can easily be orchestrated. No one apart from my cabinet and the few loyal members of this monarchy are aware of your pregnancy let alone who the father is. You can live your life _free_ of this servitude."

"Is that what you did?" 

Mollie hadn't intentionally meant to confront him in such a manner but his choice of words punctured her heart. "Is that what I was to you? Something to be covered up to free _you_ from a life of servitude?" 

Alexandre's face reddened. 

_"Ne fais pas ça,"_ he murmured. "That's not fair." 

It was as if all the memories of Mollie's childhood resurfaced as she stared into the eyes she inherited from her father. From the death of her grandparents to the feeling of every tear that soaked her pillow when she lay in her cot night after night, wishing for her father to magically come and take her away from her little apartment in Chartery. From the nights she went hungry when the bakery had a slow day to nights spent hiding underneath the stairwell of the decrepit apartment while Lyon guards raided the building searching for rebel spies.

"I'm not going to do what you did to me," Mollie said thickly. "I'm not like you. No child deserves that." 

Alexandre was quiet his gaze faraway. 

"It's going to be different for her," Mollie whispered. "I'll do whatever it takes to make sure of that." 

The silence was long and heavy but Mollie was prepared for anything. Even if her father decided to kick her out of his kingdom himself for refusing to adhere to his conditions. 

"I...I understand," he said slowly. "I only want what's best for you, Mollie. I always have. Every parent wants that for their child." He hesitated. "I don't want you to live a shackled life -- you still have your whole life ahead of you." 

Mollie hastily wiped the few tears that had dripped from the corner of her eyes. 

"Micah won't shackle me," she said immediately. The conviction in her tone surprised her as much as it did her father. "After all, the fight within us is strong. Isn't that what Marchesseaults are known for?" 

Mollie didn't think it was possible for a man as strict and imperious as Alexandre Marchesseault to smile -- she really didn't. But she liked him a lot better when she saw it spread across his features. It really took a whole decade off the the man. 

"I trust your judgment," he said softly. 

Mollie smiled back. She hadn't realized how much of a weight it had been on her shoulders thinking her father saw her as someone incapable of making decisions. She felt pride knowing she proved him wrong and that he respected her for it. 

“For how long will you be gone?” she murmured eyeing the guards who stood several feet away outside in the corridor. 

“Hopefully only a couple weeks. I don’t like to be absent from my monarchy for longer than I need to be.”

Mollie felt a wash of worry run through her. Alexandre was one of the few people in this castle Mollie knew wouldn’t harm her. She had yet to warm up to his advisor – Courtois was it? Either way she couldn’t help but feel a sense of vulnerability creep up her spine with the absence of the King.

As if reading her thoughts Alexandre spoke quietly.

“You will be safe here daughter. Within these walls you are untouchable.”

Mollie looked away and brushed a hand over her belly. It wasn’t _her_ safety she was worried for. 

“Who will be ruling in your absence?” Mollie asked.

“Caine,” he said tonelessly. Mollie could sense a hint of disdain there. “It’s temporary – and whatever he decides to carry out must be approved by Elio and the rest of the cabinet. As far as I am concerned, little should change.”

“Caine?” Mollie asked questioningly.

“Your brother,” he said simply. “Elio will introduce you later today. Till then, keep healthy and look after yourself.... Mollie.”

Mollie watched him turn with a swish of his red cloak – his guards flanking either side of their King. He disappeared into the dark corridors of the castle.

It was the first time he had addressed her formally. The first time he had said her name -- had _called_ her Mollie. It made a warm fuzzy feeling spread through her body and Mollie was pleased to know their relationship had made progress since their first encounter. There was still so much time left for them to get to know each other. Mollie looked forward to it. However something else her father said creeped into her thoughts. 

_Brother?_

Mollie swallowed nervously. She had forgotten that Alexandre had fathered two more children after her. Mollie had always thought she was an only child and she lived her entire life till now believing so.

 _“Half_ -brother,” she muttered to herself brushing her fingers through her wild curls. She wasn’t looking forward to the reunion.

***

After Mollie had dragged herself to her quarters that night she was surprised to see the empty room awaiting her. Usually Margot, Esperanza or Cécily would be present, waiting for her to arrive and prep her for bed. Mollie needed assistance nowadays, the weight of the twins in her belly was too much for her skinny body to carry around. 

The silence was deafening in her spacious room and her mind began to wonder. With her father gone. Micah at his usual nightly meetings and her ladies in waiting not present to breathe down her back, Mollie sensed an opportunity. 

The possibility of reuniting with Zen and Araya was tempting – especially now that she was truly alone. She knew where the bell tower was. She could get there herself. She wasn’t _completely_ incapable. 

Mollie grabbed her yellow cloak and made the lengthy journey down the long narrow corridor in her quarters and down the spiralling staircase towards the back doors to the courtyard separating the west wing from the east. It was cold and quiet in the hallway and the vacancy made Mollie’s skin prickle. She grabbed a torch on her way and held her belly carefully ignoring the fiery pain in her ankles and her back. 

Mollie pushed open the large red doors of the main entrance which opened to a large and spacious courtyard. The white pillars surrounding the space were enveloped in thick lush green vines and the beginnings of sprouting white climbing roses and blush pink mandevillas decorated the vined structure. The sweet scent of honeysuckle filled the air and Mollie found herself closing her eyes briefly letting the soft autumn breeze ruffle her curls. 

She could picture it. Her little girls running through the underbrush, the warm temperate climate of _Peréal_ providing a safe and comforting ambiance. She could make that dream a reality. This war wouldn't last forever -- nothing did. 

_They would have everything she never did._

When Mollie opened her eyes again she eyed the large full moon above her that bathed the mosaiced courtyard in a pale creamy glow. In the distance she could spot the green hilltops beyond the gates of the city and the spotted lights of the town that lay beyond the massive castle. Her eyes caught something else on the hilltop in that moment. Mollie blinked once -- her brown eyes quivering when she locked gazes with a creature that turned her blood to ice.

She gasped and dropped her torch ignoring the darkness that it left her submerged in. 

_No. It couldn’t be._

Outlined on the hilltop was a large jet black wolf with deep-set yellow eyes that glowed in the dark ambiance. 

Mollie knew who it belonged to. She’d recognize those ravenous yellow eyes anywhere. The last time she had seen it, it had chased her down the hallways of the ice fortress in Icedalar.

She could hear her breaths whooshing past her lips as she came to the horrid realization of what was before her. Its owner may be closer than she thought.

Before Mollie could dash back into the castle she felt a horrible gut wrenching pain erupt in her abdomen that sent her careening onto her knees in pain. The thought of seeing James Lyon again made Mollie retch and she groped at the tiled ground -- the pain in her abdomen radiating throughout her entire body.

She screamed in pain – a horrible wetness gushing out from between her legs. She clawed at her abdomen – the pain erupting like a fire within her womb. 

“No,” she whispered.

Mollie felt as if she had submerged her lower body into a pot of heated molasses. Slowly, she brought her palms from between her legs to stare at the offending crimson liquid that had bathed her knees and lower body in its looming grasp. 

The unmistakable scent of copper assaulted her senses and Mollie choked on her sobs staring at her blood soaked palms.

She screamed into the night. The pain was a knife through her uterus cutting through everything in its path and leaving Mollie broken on the steps of a courtyard beneath a blanket of stars.

Her thoughts were on her babies.

“Please,” she choked between her screams. “Please not now. Not them.”

Only the sound of her own sobs echoed in her ears as the excruciating pain continued to rip through her trembling body. 

Mollie wondered if this was what hell felt like. The world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient. I had so many applications to complete this entire month and it was so incredibly draining. Ugh. It was a relief to come back and continue the story. 
> 
> "But I think I might know someone who does." Any ideas who Mollie was referring to in this chapter? As always thank you for your feedback and comments. Love you all xx 
> 
> Translations in order
> 
> *And after?
> 
> *He will come here my prince.


End file.
